Calamity Jane
by smartyjonescrzy
Summary: Will Benteen's youngest daughter, Jane, falls into trouble as if it were second nature. When even she becomes disgusted by her own antics, she reminds Will of another "Calamity Jane" from his own childhood... Post-GWTW/Scarlett
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the wonderful Will Benteen, nor Suellen Benteen, nor Tara, nor any other characters and scences of Margaret Mitchell's that are used here.**

******Story is set at Tara, Clayton County, GA circa 1884.**

******Enjoy! ~ smarty**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Janey!"

Jane Elizabeth Benteen swiftly glanced over shoulder to see her older sisters seated serenely before the table, their shiny heads bowed and hands neatly folded on their laps, gently clasping their rosary beads. Their skirts lay pillowed out around them as they kneeled on the hard dining room floor. Her oldest sister, Susie, was giving her a cold, disapproving look. Jane bowed her head self-consciously and breathed a gentle sigh. She had dozed off again during evening prayers and would likely be hearing from her mother about it later.

Next to her, her younger brother Robert fidgeted with trying to find a comfortable position at the gathering. Being not quite tall enough to reach the table while he was kneeling, Robert was afforded the luxury of resting against a chair, his gangling hands clasped together on the hard, wooden seat. Still smarting from being reprimanded by her sisters, Jane elbowed him once and he was still.

"Our Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women," Jane's mother, Susan Elinor Benteen, gently lulled in recitation of the Hail Mary. Jane always found her mother's voice lacking the priest's conviction when it came to prayers. It was so painfully easy to let the toneless voice put her to sleep. She had no idea how her sisters stood it. Reluctantly, she joined her siblings in intoning, "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death."

Next to Mrs. Benteen, Jane's father, Will Benteen, began to haltingly count his decade, thinking deliberately as he fingered each bead. His wife gently murmured the words he forgot, prodding him along patiently. Jane bit back a smile as she looked at her tall, gangling father. He could have been an imposing figure, had his features not been so humorous. He was a convert, so he lacked their mother's advantage of practicing the faith from birth. He worked hard to know his prayers, but like everything he attempted outside of what he knew, it came off awkward. Jane adored her father. Listening to his flat, halting voice was always her favorite part of the evening ritual.

Once he'd finished and Susie began reciting hers, Jane slowly let her mind wander. Susie's prim and proper voice always irked her to no end. Susie was a young lady. Susie was going to marry well. Susie was the oldest. Susie always got her mother's attention. At one time, Susie hadn't thought herself too good to play with Jane and Robert. That had been before she'd "grown up." The seventeen-year-old hardly spent any time out of giving herself airs and looking down her nose at Jane anymore. As she listened to Susie's stuffy voice, Jane smiled to herself, thinking of tripping her sister up the stairs or pulling on one of her pale blonde curls.

Jane shifted her bright blue eyes from Susie to her next older sister. Thirteen-year-old Martha Ellen Benteen sat beside Susie, quieter than a mouse, her face solemn in its meditation on the Holy Virgin. Jane liked Martha, as did everyone. It was impossible not to like Martha. Graced with the elegant beauty of her mother's gentrified roots and the humble amiableness of her father, Martha was in every way perfect. Her dainty features mirrored those of her great-grandmother, Solange Robillard, whose portrait hung imperially in the parlor. She had spirit and vitality, as evidenced in their frequent games together, and a natural, deep respect for her elders. She'd never been punished without bursting into tears at her own self-hatred. When she talked, she spoke softly, gracefully. She always had the right thing to say. Nary one hair on her auburn head had ever been disturbed. Now on the cusp of womanhood, her sweet disposition had yet to change. And as for her prospects, she'd caught the eyes of young men even as a child. Everyone in the county knew that Joe Fontaine, who lived down the road at Mimosa, was hopelessly in love with her, even though she blushingly denied this to be true.

Jane surreptitiously turned her head and looked down at the small boy kneeling opposite the chair. Robert she hardly thought much of. As the youngest child and only son, Robert Edward Lee Benteen had learned to carry the world's expectations on his shoulders from a very early age. His rich, golden hair was his mother's and his plain face and gangling frame belonged to his father. The house servants deferentially referred to him as 'the Young Master,' as everyone knew Tara, the family's farm, would one day be wholly his own. Robert didn't talk much. He often wandered around with a stupid look on his face, his cloudy blue eyes wide and absorbent. He followed his father around like a shadow, and idolized him as if he were the Lord incarnate. He'd been a willing playmate when he was younger, but now that he was able to handle some responsibility, he spent more time helping his father around the farm and learning the family trade.

And then there was Jane, the youngest daughter, the oldest remaining child, possessed with neither her mother's good looks nor her father's good manners. Her ratty brown hair was not at all pretty, and it took hours to get it brushed and neatly braided every morning. Sandwiched in between her pretty, dainty sisters and the pride and joy of the house, she was the one with whom no one wanted to be around. At ten years old, she was not yet a lady and certainly not a child. An adventurer since birth, she more often than not went off to play by herself. Yet, wherever she went, she always found a playmate in Trouble. It seemed as though she could never do anything right, earning the high disdain of her mother and a sad shake of the head from her father. Jane didn't understand. She wanted to be petted, she wanted to be made much of, she wanted to be liked, just as her other siblings. It wasn't fair that things never worked out for her the way they were supposed to. Perhaps if she just…

"Jane."

She glanced up at her mother's haughty voice and realized that Martha had already finished her decade and the family was waiting on her. Coughing self-consciously, she began telling her decade, playing gently with her beads as she did so.

Jane's mother watched the beads sway to and fro in the child's hands, a disapproving scowl written plainly across her face. She had never liked Jane. She hadn't even wanted Jane. She'd been content with her two daughters, but her stubborn husband just had to have a son. Her frail, delicate disposition hadn't been equipped to deal with the stress of bearing so many children. Both Jane and Robert had cost her her health and nearly her life. She tried to look after the girl as much as she did the other two, but Jane was so distasteful in every which way. She was so…monkey-like. Try as she might, Mrs. Benteen couldn't find a single likable attribute of the child. Perhaps she would grow out of it, Suellen mused. After all, it was the only hope she had left for the girl.

Jane smiled to herself as she came to the end of her decade, content to have successfully made it through without her mother's harsh corrections. She abruptly came to a close and gathered the beads up in her palm, waiting to be rewarded for her efforts. Instead, there was only silence. She surreptitiously peered around the table to see if anyone was appreciating her accomplishment, but they all had their heads bowed solemnly in quiet expectation.

She looked down at Robert, who silently dozed beside her, his posture against the chair making it possible for him to escape their mother's attention. She nudged him slightly, but even that failed to rouse him.

"Robert E. Lee!"

The stillness was broken by the harsh sound of their mother's voice. A startled Robert jumped and opened his eyes to see Suellen glaring down at him. He looked down like a scolded puppy and tentatively began his decade.

Jane hid her face to mask a giggle. It seemed as though she wouldn't be the only one to suffer their mother's wrath tonight.

Robert, ever so much his father, stumbled through his decade, halting and unsure of himself. He spoke so lowly, however, that most of his grievous errors escaped his mother's attention. Eventually, his quiet, mumbling voice came to a pause, signaling that he had ended.

"Virgin most faithful," Suellen intoned, beginning the Litany of the Virgin. Jane's voice mingled with the rest of the family's as she responded automatically, "pray for us."

The house servants, seated in the breezeway that connected the dining room to the kitchen, swayed and hummed gently in between the responses, the effect of which never failed to give Jane goose bumps. With each response, the humming seemed to escalate in tone and tension until Jane felt fit to burst out of her skin. This was all her religion meant to her simple, unfettered mind. It wasn't ideas; it was a _feeling._

All too soon, however, the Litany had ended and Jane was back to listening to her mother's dull, toneless voice rattle off the final Hail Mary, signaling the end of prayers. She breathed out through her nose with relief as she hastily joined her family in finishing, "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death. Amen."

She gratefully opened her eyes and jumped to her feet, eager to get up out of the kneeling position. Her sisters and mother had gracefully risen from the table, Susie and Martha kissing their father goodnight and moving off to bed while Suellen replaced her rosary on the mantle and extinguished the gently burning candles. Her father, groaning, had finally gotten himself off the floor and was rubbing the stump of his left leg where it connected to his wooden peg. It ached him in cool weather and in the evenings oft times than not, and he'd be consigned to sit in front of the fire and rub it until all traces of the rheumatism were gone.

Robert was already gone. Jane whirled around, trying to locate him, and finally caught him slinking off in the shadows. She hurried over and tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to nearly jump out of his overhalls.

"Whatcha doin'?" She whispered curiously.

The boy silently put a finger to his lips and turned his attention back to sneaking into the hall. Jane followed right behind him. She observed him carefully test the creaky floorboards before setting down his feet, and took the attention to make sure she stepped wherever he stepped.

"Robert! Jane!"

The children squealed and looked up to see dutiful old Dilcey, their mammy, staring down at them. She stood in the way of the children as their mother, who'd spoken, coldly beckoned them back. "Come here."

"Now look what you did," Robert grumbled, hanging his head and slowly ambling over toward Suellen.

"It was _your _game." Jane hissed back impertinently.

They stopped and stood in front of Suellen like two criminals awaiting their sentence. Mrs. Benteen coldly looked from one to the other before she spoke, "You were sleeping during prayers again."

Robert nodded. "Yes'm, we were." Jane stomped on his bare foot, causing tears to well up in his large blue eyes. Yet, he bit his lip and kept from crying out. Jane huffed silently. Why did he have to act so brave all the time? It annoyed her as much as Susie's preening or Martha's perfectness did.

Suellen turned her attention to Jane. "Well?"

"_He _was. I was tryin' to wake him up." Jane shot Robert a snide look. She'd always known her brother was stupid, but to confess everything right away? How stupid could one get?

"Jane."

The girl snapped her head back around to face her mother. "Yes'm?"

"Did you fall asleep during prayers?" Suellen gave the child a knowing look.

Jane shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Yes'm…I mean, no'm….yes'm – no'm – yes'm…" She studied her mother's face, desperately searching for some sort of sign as she waffled back and forth, trying to choose the lesser of the two evils.

Suellen had had enough. "Stop!" She cried out sternly, causing Jane to go still. She turned her attention back to her son. "Robert."

He looked up hesitantly. "Yes'm?"

"You're a good honest boy, and I do love you for it." She placed an affectionate hand on the boy's bony shoulder. "I will not punish you tonight, but I expect to see you as attentive during prayers as you are out in the fields. Don't let me catch you at it again. Do you understand?"

Robert nodded gratefully, a smile gently pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Yes'm."

Suellen nodded serenely and patted his back. "Good. Now up to bed. It's long past your bedtime."

"Yes'm." Robert kissed his mother and hurried off with Dilcey, who took his hand to guide him up the stairs so "de Youn' Mas'r doan falls down in de dahk."

Suellen sighed wearily. Vexed lines appeared across her face, giving her a haggard look. "What am I to do, Jane?"

Jane chanced a glance up at her mother pleadingly. "Mama, I didn't mean no harm by it, really!"

Suellen shook her head at the girl. "What is the fifth commandment?"

Jane thought for a second before slowly replying, "Honor thy father and mother."

"Consider that, Jane, next time you choose to lie to your mother." Suellen looked down and opened up her Book of Devotions. "Ecclesiastes 12:14, 2nd Corinthians 5:10, Revelations 5:13, 2nd Maccabees 12:39. Copied in your best penmanship. I expect it done tomorrow before you can go out and play."

"Yes'm." Jane's mouth curled down in distaste. The passages her mother had chosen rankled of purgatory, and she knew, as well as her mother did, that she did not like to ruminate long on "all the poor souls in purgatory." It was probably because she'd bought a one-way ticket there for being such a contemptible child, and for lying to her mother.

"All right." Her mother rose and moved off toward the parlor. "To bed, Jane. It's past your bedtime."

"But I can't go to bed! I ain't tired." Jane pouted, and scurried away when their maid, Prissy, made a motion to catch her by the arm.

Suellen turned back toward the child, a short reply ready on her tongue. She refrained from saying it, however, when she caught sight of something behind the girl. Jane, confused, looked up just as she felt two large hands on her shoulders. She smiled with relief as she gazed up into her father's amused, passive face. He'd come to her rescue at just the right time.

"Leave her be, Sue. If she goes to bed now, she'll just be gettin' up and walkin' around later on. 'Sides, she's had enough lessons for one night."

Jane leaned back against her father's butternut trousers and sighed happily. Her father's low, flat voice was gentle and reassuring, soothing almost (if something so emotionless could be considered soothing), and, just like the man it belonged to, belied the strength and resolve lurking just underneath its unassuming exterior.

Mrs. Benteen's gaze instantly softened. "Yes, Will. But let Prissy at least get her dressed for bed. It'll take the poor wench hours to redo her braids."

Will nodded before slowly stooping down to Jane's level. He prodded her gently in the back and murmured in her ear, "Let's do what Mama says and get on upstairs."

"But I don't have to go to bed yet?" She asked tentatively.

"Not if you ain't ready to." Will stood and slowly began stumping off toward the old office and the warm fireplace awaiting him. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

Jane watched him go with a smile on her face, happy that she had, for once, gotten what she wanted. At that moment, Boo, the family's blue roan hound dog, shot out from between Will's legs and trotted past Jane. Giggling, the girl took off and chased the aging hound up the stairs, where Prissy and hours of rebraiding awaited her.

* * *

Jane, clad in her dingy gray nightgown, wrestled in a game of tug-of-war with Boo over her dirty sock while Prissy hovered over her, diligently binding the girl's wild locks into as neat a braid as possible. Jane ignored the maid's fluttering protestations whenever she turned her head as she playfully imitated Boo's growl, throwing all of her weight into the heated game.

Over on one of the beds, Susie and Martha lay huddled together, giggling and talking softly about the suitors after Susie's desirable hand and other "womanly" matters. Clad in more stylish gowns, their undergarments served to accentuate their curves more than hide them, their waists both strictly kept as tiny as possible (for, as their mother taught them, a tiny waist was terribly attractive to a man). Their hair already neatly done up in braids for the night and their toiletries gracefully executed, they looked and smelled as sweet and fresh as any self-respecting Southern girls aught.

"…And, I hear there's an eligible doctor that's just set up practice in Atlanta who's quite mature and terribly rich," Susie drawled enthusiastically.

"Oh, Susie! But how would you ever meet someone in Atlanta?"

"Why, naturally, I intend to go to Atlanta this summer and stay with our Hamilton relatives up there! Then I'll go on to Savannah and stay with our O'Hara cousins, and then on from there to Charleston with the Robillards." Susie gloated serenely. "Mama said it was _essential _I do so. All the eligible males are in the cities, Sissy. Surely, you don't think I can find a suitable husband by sittin' around in Clayton County my whole life. Why, I'll become an old maid before that happens!"

"You're right, I suppose." Martha traced the embroidered flower pattern on the quilted comforter she lay on. "It's just…well, there's plenty of nice boys in and around Jonesboro."

Susie arched a brow. "Like who?"

"Like…" Martha bit her lip and looked down. "Like Joe Fontaine. He comes calling on you at least once a week."

Susie gave her younger sibling a condescending smile. "Sissy, I don't care a thing in the world for Joe Fontaine. Besides, the only reason he comes calling so much is because he's in love with you."

"Do you really think so?" Martha gushed breathlessly.

"Of course! Why do you think a handsome man like Joe Fontaine hasn't gotten married yet? Why, he's waiting for you to grow up!"

"Oh." She reddened, but her soft gray eyes sparkled dreamily at the thought. "He certainly is handsome…" She rested her head against the pillow and sighed. She looked forward every week to when Joe came to visit. She loved how he respectfully called her "Miss Martha," and kissed her hand as if she were a lady instead of a child. Though he spent most of his visit with Susie, he often teased her with a clever new riddle he'd heard in Bullard's Store that she would sit up all night to solve in order to have the answer by his next visit. Now that she was growing into her womanly frame, she was beginning to reciprocate Joe's warm feelings of affection. Yet, usually after his visits, she would have to cry herself to sleep; for, deep in her young, vulnerable heart, she feared that he still and would always think of her as just 'Susie's little sissy.'

"Oh, Sissy, you're a child." Susie scoffed. "You've known each other since birth and he's nearly twice your age. He'll be more a mentoring father figure to you than anything else." Suddenly, she brightened and leaned her head close, causing Martha to rise up alertly. "Although, I've heard that he's quite the hellcat."

Martha cocked her head. "What's that?"

Susie smiled wickedly. "A man with a lightning-quick temper and a happy finger on the trigger to match."

Martha gasped. "Oh, it ain't so!"

Susie nodded. "Is too so. You go ask Mama. She'll tell you that all the Fontaine men have only been and only will be hellcats."

"But he's so sweet, and gentle, and courteous!" Martha protested, her voice raising enough to earn a curious glance from Jane.

"That's why it's so obvious he's in love with you, honey. He's just like a kitten whenever you're around." Susie patted the girl's knee. "But don't be fooled; he's a hellcat just the same."

"I don't believe it." Martha declared fervently.

"You don't, huh?" Susie smiled slyly. "Well, I heard it on good authority about what happened last summer when he was staying with his mother's folks in Athens…"

She began whispering so quietly in Martha's ear that Jane couldn't hear a thing. Intrigued, she moved off of Prissy's lap and let go of the sock Boo still gripped in his jaws. Anxiously, she crawled up close behind them and attempted to hear more.

Suddenly, Martha drew back from Susie, a shocked expression on her face. "No!"

Susie nodded. "Yes."

"Well, who won?"

Susie gave Martha a dull look. "Who do you know is still alive?"

"Oh, that's terrible!" Martha crossed her arms. "Who did you ever hear that from, anyway?"

"Patty McRae."

"You call that a good authority? Everyone knows Patty McRae's nothing but a gossip. She pretends like she knows everything!"

"But Sissy, that's because she does! She's the worldliest person I know. She's been to Mobile once and Athens _twice._"

"Twice?"

Susie nodded smugly. "That's how she heard the story."

Martha sighed. "Oh, I imagine Athens is a lovely place."

Susie smoothed the hem of her gown and sat up. "You'll have to hear that from Patty. I've never been further than Fayetteville, and that was with Daddy."

"What? What happened in Athens?" Jane piped up curiously. To her dismay, however, the sisters separated and moved off to tuck themselves each into bed.

"Tell me! Tell me!" She cried, causing Susie to stick her tongue out at her. She stuck hers out in return before scurrying over to her nicer sister, who was already curling up underneath her quilted covers. "Martha, please!"

"Never mind, Jane. You're too young to understand." Martha said softly before burying her face in the pillow, her heart heavy and her mind unsettled by the things she'd just been told about her beloved.

Jane stuck out her lower lip and slowly padded back over to her bed, pouting. "You never tell me _anything."_

"That's because it doesn't concern you." Susie replied tartly, gazing closely at her reflection in the mirror. "Why don't you go back to playing with _dirt _or whatever it is that amuses you and just leave us alone?"

Jane growled and glowered at her sister, her fists balling up at her sides. The remark had hit an all-too-sore note, and it set her blood to boiling. Screaming, she lunged at her older sister in a heated rage.

Martha squealed and hid underneath her blankets. Boo jumped up on Jane's bed and began barking repeatedly. Prissy got up and fairly flew down the hall.

Jane and Susie rolled around on the floor, Jane pulling on her sister's pale blonde hair so hard it made Susie yelp, Susie scratching Jane's face with her squeaky-clean nails. Susie, however, was thinking fast. Eventually, she was able to angle herself into a position where she could throw the furious child off of her and scurry for the comfort of her bed.

Jane, still hot with rage, darted for her own bed and picked up her largest pillow. She sat up and hurled it at Susie with all of her might. Susie ducked her head to avoid the blow and the pillow connected with the gas lamp on her bedstead, causing it to crash and shatter onto the floor.

Instantly, the room fell silent. Boo jumped down to sniff around the fragmented glass shards. Martha poked her wide eyes out from beneath the blankets to take in the damage. Susie bit her lip, a worried frown crossing her face. Jane's face instantly changed from red to pale. No one, save for Boo, dared even move. Suddenly, they all jumped as a voice broke the silence.

"Whut gwine on in hyah?"

They turned to see tall, lean Dilcey standing in the doorframe, her arms crossed stoically. The girls held their breath and looked to their imposing mammy with wide eyes. Dilcey was not easy to get along with when she was mad.

Her eyes bounced from the wrecked lamp on the floor to Boo, who, bored, trotted off, to the blanketed lump that was Martha, to finally Susie and Jane sitting on their beds. "Why you gurls gwine an' break yo' maw's lamp?"

Susie, recovering her voice, hastily pointed a finger at Jane. "She did it."

Dilcey, unconvinced, warily turned to Martha, whom she knew would not lie. "Well, Mis' Mawth'r?"

Martha glanced from Susie to Jane to Dilcey, before casting her eyes down and playing with the ends of her auburn braids. "I didn't see it happen, but it certainly seems that way. You see, Susie and I were talking, and Jane got upset because she wasn't…"

Jane caught Dilcey's stern eye and bit her lip. She had a very strong feeling that Bible sentences wouldn't be the only punishment in store for her on the morrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The ducks and chickens milled around the front of the lawn in the early dew morning, grabbing eagerly for a piece of the feed Robert scattered on the ground about them. Behind him, the young sun cast its early morning light across the long, winding dirt drive, still muddy from the rains a few days before. The great white pillars of Tara's front porch shone with promise, shading the porch comfortingly. The shutters framing the windows sagged, the whitewash peeling hideously in places. Green vines crawled up alongside the great chimney, enveloping the mixmatched brick in their firm grasp. The windows had a dull hue to them, dirt and dried rain clogging the view both from within and without. It was growing season, and the attention was on the crops, not on fixing up the house; that was for winter. In any instance, the house's days of being a great plantation had gone, and it showed.

The grounds surrounding Tara, however, were a completely different story. The fence line stood erect and in excellent repair all the way around the property. The orchard trees were in full bloom, their young flowers waving in the wind toward the nourishing sun. The red clay soil had been churned over for the planting of the crops. Young cotton plants pushed up out of them in long, endless rows, full of promise. In the vegetable garden, lush shoots were beginning to sprout, still young and frail, but strong enough to make Prissy dance around with glee at the thought of fresh corn, peas, yams and other dinnertime delights. The magnolia trees sparkled in the light of the new day, sending their sweet, mild fragrance up into the air that wafted through an open window in the house.

Jane reveled in the magnolias' fresh scent and sighed heavily, resting her chin in her palm. She gazed out the open window at the grounds below and wished she could be outside. Before her, the family Bible was open to Ecclesiastes, Chapter 12, alongside a blank sheet of paper and a fully inked pen. She really ought to get to work. But it was so dull, and she couldn't think about something dull when it was so beautiful outside. Jane gave the work a sideways glance and felt a guilty pang. She'd tried to start it, she really had. She just couldn't seem to get past picking up the pen.

She heard Martha and Susie's voices through the window and looked back out on the grounds below. Her sisters were laughing and talking animatedly as they mounted Dolly and Sherman, the family's horses, and set off down the drive for a leisurely ride. Jane closed her eyes and groaned. Life wasn't fair.

She reached down and picked the pen back up, filled with new resolve. She leaned forward in a posture prepared to write, then stopped and threw the pen back down on the desk. What was the point? Even if she finished the Bible verses, she still wasn't allowed outside. Her mother had placed her under house arrest for the entire day.

"Jane, stop playing around."

She looked over her shoulder at her mother, who was seated in a high-backed chair on the opposite side of the room. She deftly threaded her needle in and out through one of her husband's shirts, repairing the hole he'd torn in the sleeve. She didn't look up at Jane as she silently worked, yet she was still keeping a close eye on her daughter all the same.

"Yes'm," Jane mumbled, squirming around in her seat. Her bottom was sore. She hated sitting still for too long. But as long as she was under her mother's gaze, sitting was all she would be doing for the entire day.

It didn't help that her bottom still smarted from the welts she'd received from her mother last night after breaking the lamp. Her pained screams had been drowned out by Mrs. Benteen, who'd shrieked hysterically over the loss of her lamp, her precious lamp, her precious antique lamp that had been a wedding present from Mrs. Henry Claggart of Charleston. The words replayed over and over again in Jane's mind as she rubbed her sore bottom. The worst part was that she'd been spanked right in front of her sisters, Dilcey, and her father. The humiliation stung far more than the sores did.

"Jane."

She snapped her head up and looked over at her mother.

"_Stop _that."

"Yes, Mama." Jane turned back around and stared at the Bible until the print began to start running together.

"And stop sitting there like a ninny. You haven't even written a word yet."

"Yes'm." Jane picked up the pen again and slowly started on the first sentence.

Suellen set the shirt down and began fixing the hem of one of Dilcey's dresses. She got no further than pinning it up, however, when Prissy hesitantly appeared in the doorway. She looked up, blowing a small sigh of irritation. "Yes?"

"Well'm," Prissy fidgeted uncomfortably, folding her hands over into her apron. "Mis' Suellen…dat dawg he's in de flow'rs agin…"

"Then why didn't you chase him out?"

"Ah caint!" Prissy sobbed. "Ah caint go nowheres near dat dawg! He gots fangs an' he barks awful fierce-like iffen ever he sees me! Ah thinks he's gwine ter eat me!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Suellen crossly tossed the mending aside and stood up, grabbing the broom on her way out. "The worst piece of work Pa ever did was buying you!" She stormed past Prissy, who shrunk back in fear at the sight of the broom.

Jane waited until she heard the door leading out of the kitchen to the back porch slam shut before scrambling out of her chair and darting off in the opposite direction.

She scurried out of the parlor, through the drawing room, and rounded the corner into the great receiving hall, her heart pounding in her chest. She feared that at any second, she would run right into Dilcey, although the sound of the negress stomping around upstairs informed her otherwise.

Wildly, she hurtled past the giant wooden staircase and bounded right up to the front door. Panting, she paused for a second, as if she'd somehow lost her courage at this stage of her escape. Her guilt-ridden mind wheedled with her to stop acting foolish. The longer it talked, the more it began to make sense. What was she thinking? Running away certainly wouldn't improve her favor with anyone. Perhaps she should go back and sit down before her mother returned and got her into even more trouble.

Jane closed her eyes and shook her head. No. She couldn't possibly be in more trouble than she was already. Besides, she would just _die _sitting around inside all day. Her mind made up, she clutched the door handle and slowly turned the knob.

It opened with a small groan onto the front porch outside. Jane surreptitiously glanced first left, then right, before sneaking out and gently closing the door behind her. She heard her mother's shouts from around the back of the house, presumably still chasing Boo out of her garden. Jane ducked down and darted off for the first building she saw, the barn standing adjacent to the house.

* * *

Will stumped into the barn and set down the bucket he'd been carrying, Robert following closely on his heels. He groaned as he straightened, throwing a cursory glance around the barn. The two stalls housing the horses were empty, Susie and Martha having taken them out for a ride. In the two stalls opposite, the mules named Stars and Bars, but more commonly referred to as Lazy and Stupid, gazed curiously over their half-doors at the man and boy. The cow, whom Martha had affectionately christened Brownie when she was four, bellowed in her large box at the end of the row. Milking the cow every morning had always been Martha's chore. The task had, of course, been first offered to Susie, but she'd refused. The mere thought of entering the dirty, smelly barn was enough to make the older girl's nose wrinkle in repugnance. The dirt floor was stained with urine and manure. The plow and harness hung next to the tack on one wall, well oiled and ready for the next planting season. The whole barn smelled of musty straw, manure, and leather. With a wry smile, Will turned to look back down at his son. "All right, boy. You ready for little man's work?"

"Yessir, I sure am." Robert replied eagerly, gazing up earnestly at his father.

Will turned and faced him, pointing a finger at each of the barn's stalls. "See them stalls? They all need their feed restocked, water put in their buckets, and fresh straw down on the floor. Dirty straw needs to be taken out to the heap pit over by the east fence line. Water's in this bucket here and the hay's all up in the loft. You understand?"

Robert nodded and looked down. "Yessir." Though he didn't want to seem so, he couldn't help feeling disappointed that feeding and watering the horses, mules, and cow were all his father had in mind for him to do.

"Takin' care of the livestock is very important. We rely on them for food, transport, and plantin'. They need to be well looked after so they can do their job right proper. A farm's only as good as the help that goes into it, and the animals are a part of that help." Will smiled when he saw the boy look up in pleased astonishment. "You think you're up to it?"

"Yessir, I am." Robert nodded.

Will patted the boy on the back and turned to go. "I'll leave you to it. When you're done, holler for me."

"Yessir." Robert turned and started up the ladder to the loft.

About an hour into it, Robert dragged the last hay tick across the loft floor and threw it down the hole into the barn below. Dusting his hands off and feeling satisfied of the job he'd accomplished, he slowly started down the rickety ladder.

"Hey, Robert."

The boy nearly lost his footing at the voice. He scrambled in panic to regain his balance and slowly extracted his foot out from between two rungs of the ladder. His confidence shaken, he took his time making it down to the bottom. "What're you doin' here?" He mumbled in Jane's general direction once both his feet were firmly planted on the ground.

Jane frowned and pouted. "I live here, too, you know."

"Thought you wasn't allowed outside." Robert gathered up the tick and carried it into Sherman's stall, where he began spreading it out on the hay rack.

"That ain't none of your business, Robert E. Lee," Jane shot back defensively, giving him a smug look. "I thought you was out helpin' Daddy."

"I am," the boy replied, dragging the bucket of water over to the stall door and pouring it into the ground-level tin pan just inside the entrance.

Jane played with the ends of the giant wheelbarrow filled with dung and dirty straw. "Can I help?"

"No."

Jane frowned indignantly at her laconic brother. "Why not?"

"Cause this is little man's work." Robert pushed past her and calmly dragged the large bucket over to the next stall.

Jane crossed her arms. "So?"

Robert paused and blankly turned to look at her. "You're a _girl."_

The way he said it made the back of Jane's neck boil red. She clenched her teeth and felt her hands ball up in fists. She felt she could sock him right then and there. Instead, she grabbed him by the strap of his overhalls and shoved him into the wall, stomped her foot, screeched, and huffily sat down – right in the barrow of manure.

Reacting to her weight, the barrow toppled backward, taking Jane with it. She screamed as first it knocked over Robert and the bucket before crashing down onto the dirt floor.

Jane lay still for a moment, in perpetual shock over what had just happened. The water and manure began running together in an awful, stinky mess. The brown and green goo seeped into her clothes, her arms, her bare feet, her hair. Slowly, she picked her filthy self up off of the floor and took in the mess she had caused.

The runny poop was swiftly spreading out over the floor, some making its way through the open stall doors and contaminating the fresh straw beds. Robert calmly lay soaked on the ground amidst the mess, the empty bucket lying on top of him. The wheelbarrow lay on its side, the solid dung turning runny the instant it came into contact with the water. She gasped and drew back hastily, her wet skirts clinging to her legs. She'd never meant to do it! Truly, she hadn't!

"Now look what you done," Robert moaned miserably, not even attempting to pull himself up off the floor.

Tears burned at the corners of Jane's eyes, but she fervently blinked them back. "Stop it!" She screamed down at Robert. "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"

Before he could move to get up, she turned and fled blindly out the barn's back door.

* * *

"Cum on, now!" Pork, the grizzled old manservant who attended on Will, hobbled about in the swampy marshlands bordering the property to the south. The hog pen stood firmly down in one of the bogs, home to a massive sow and her litter of shoats. One of the shoats Pork presently chased outside the pen in the tall reeds, squealing and evading his gnarled grasp.

"Doan run away!" He cried as the piglet darted out between his legs. "You's gwine ter be dinner fo' de white fokes. Cum wid ol' Poke now!"

Snorting, the pig trotted rapidly away toward a small, dirty brown figure a few hundred yards away. The figure stooped to meet him, and the pig jumped right into the little figure's arms. Pork slowly straightened his creaky old back and gazed in surprise at the pig's captor. "Mis' Jane!"

The girl shyly waggled her fingers in greeting and slowly stepped through the marsh, taking the pig over to him. Pork squinted at her appraisingly. She was so filthy she was hardly recognizable. Most of her ratty brown hair had escaped her braids, falling about her face in muddy, scraggly strands. Her arms, legs and dress were soaked with a stinky, green-brown goo that gave its identifying odor off a hundred yards away. Pork wrinkled his nose. No wonder the shoat had gone running straight to her. Her eyes were puffed up and swollen from what looked like tears, and she tentatively smiled through a fine layer of dust and dirt that masked her impish features.

Pork frowned down at her as she came within speaking range. "Whut you dun, Mis' Jane? You go rollin' in de poo pile?"

She silently shook her head and handed the wriggling shoat up to him. Pork took the pig and held it tightly underneath his arm. Jane looked from the shoat to Pork blankly, then back to the shoat again.

Pork shook his gray kinky head and leaned against the hog pen. The girl's silence obviously demonstrated that she'd been up to no good, as usual.

"Aren't you going to put him back?" She asked suddenly.

Pork turned to her, startled. "Whut, Mis' Jane?"

She pointed to the squealing pig under his arm. "Aren't you going to put him back in his pen?"

"Well'm…" Pork started cautiously, "he ain' really…he's gwine ter…"

"You're not going to kill him, are you?" Jane gazed up at him with her large, doleful blue eyes.

Pork sighed. "No'm, he jus' got loose, is all." He reluctantly turned and set the shoat back down inside his pen. The pig scampered off toward the rest of the litter, blissfully unaware of his close encounter with death.

Jane smiled and climbed up to sit on the top wrung of the hog pen, watching the little shoats wriggle around in the mud. "His brothers and sisters like him. They ain't going to squeal on him for running away. They even play with him, too."

"You gots sisters an' brudder ter play wid." Pork faced Jane conversationally, still leaning against the pen's wooden post.

"Yeah, but they don't like me." Jane sighed and looked down, gently kicking at the creaky old boards with her feet. "Mama says I'm a noosen. I don't know what a noosen is, but I'll bet it's something awful. I wouldn't want to play with a noosen, either."

"Was yo' maw mad w'en she say you was a noosen?"

Jane nodded. "She's always mad. Mad, mad, mad. And it's Jane's fault. Always Jane's fault!" Biting her lip, she looked up at Pork. "Was there ever a time when you couldn't do anything right, no matter how hard you tried?"

"Well'm, Mis' Jane…" Pork smiled and shook his head at her. "Dey's allus gwine ter be times lak dat. Nobody cain' allus be perfect nohow."

"But what if it isn't just some of the time? What if everything you do isn't good enough?" The tears hotly burned in the corners of Jane's eyes as she kicked the pen harder. The boards groaned in protest. "I want to be good, Pork! I want to be mannered like Susie and pretty like Martha and handy like Robert! But I'm not! I try so hard to be good and I never am!"

"Mebbe you jus' gots ter quit tryin'. You ain' lak Mis' Susie, or Mis' Mawth'r, or de Youn' Mas'r. You's Mis' Jane." Pork smiled when the girl huffed angrily. "Dar mus' be somethin' good 'bout Mis' Jane."

"Yeah. I'm a noosen, remember?" She beat her heels furiously against the fence and picked at her muddy hem. "I'm prolly worse'n a noosen. Not even a noosen would want to play with a noosen like me."

"Now, Miss Jane, you gots ter quit feelin' sorry fo' yo'self." Pork shook his head disconsolately. "You's a right nice li'l gurl w'en you wants ter be."

Jane glared up at him, her bright blue eyes flashing angrily. When her jaw set and her brow furrowed, Pork jumped in surprise. It was the mirror image of a look he'd seen many a time in days long since gone by. "Fo' gawd…Mist' Gerald!" He breathed softly.

"What did you call me?" Jane snapped, jutting her chin out belligerently.

The grizzled old man shook his head, snapping out of his reverie. "Nuthin' Mis' Jane." He sucked in his breath and bit back a smile, studying the gently swaying marsh grass surrounding his feet. The girl was unquestionably Gerald O'Hara's granddaughter.

"You're laughing. I know it. You're laughing at me!" Jane cried, pressing her white knuckles harder against the fencepost. "Now I'm a silly joke! I try to talk to you and you act like I'm a silly joke!"

Pork retreated a step, holding his hands up defensively. "Now, Mis' Jane, Ah ain' never laf at you…"

"I'm not a silly joke!" She yelled, glaring daggers at the old man.

"Ah ain'…" Pork, thinking better of the matter, stopped and submissively dropped his gaze. "Ah's sorry, Mis' Jane. You ain' no joke. Ah woan laf at you no mo'."

A tense silence followed. Pork tentatively lifted his eyes. To his surprise, the girl broke down and burst into tears. "What is wrong with me?" She cried, beating her tiny fists against the top rail.

Pork, his heart in his throat, tentatively reached out to her. "Plees, Mis' Jane. Doan cry."

"I'm so mean! I'm a mean, mean meanie!" Jane tore at her tangled hair and kicked the boards once more, causing them to fracture and screech in protest. "It's no wonder why everyone hates me!"

Watching the little girl sob and shudder as if the world had gone to pieces was too much for the old manservant to bear. His heart welling up with compassion, Pork gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "You ain' mean, Mis Jane."

Still hiccoughing, she looked up, her sad blue eyes meeting Pork's gaze. "Then why does everyone hate me?" She asked in a very small voice.

Pork smiled and slowly shook his head. "Mis' Jane, nobody hates you."

"Th-they don't?" She squeaked, wiping her nose with her sleeve, which left a streak of mud across her face.

Pork smiled at her comical, slovenly appearance. "No'm. Dey ain' mad at you. Dey's jus' mad at de trouble you do. Dat's all. Iffen you jus' stays outer trouble…"

"But everything I do is trouble," Jane murmured emphatically.

"You ain' been in trouble hyah talkin' ter me." Pork pointed out.

A large smile slowly spread over Jane's manure-spotted face. It started as a small twitch that grew, and grew, and grew larger still, her countenance brightening as steadily as the rising sun. "You're right, ain't you?" She sniffed. "I _can _stay out of trouble!"

Pork was just about to reply when suddenly, a large groan issued forth from the beams supporting him and Jane. With a loud crash, they splintered and collapsed to the ground, taking the girl and Negro down with them.

He heard Jane screaming before he fell flat on his back, the blow knocking the breath right out of him. He lay still, listening to the sounds of wooden debris falling about him, waiting for the air to come rushing back into his lungs.

Suddenly, the earth shook from underneath him. The rumbling slowly grew louder and louder until it was finally discernable as the trampling of several cloved feet. Pork could do nothing but watch helplessly, gasping for breath, as the shoats milled out around him and disappeared into the reeds, squealing at their newfound freedom. The grumpy old sow lumbered slowly behind, following her litter with no particular hurry.

When the last curly tail had disappeared from view, an eerie silence fell over the marsh. Pork, finally regaining his voice, slowly sat up to assess the damage.

The dust still settled over the broken pen, falling onto the irreparable boards that lay in a sorry-looking heap. The pigs were gone, though he could still hear their snorting in the brush. Jane was nowhere to be seen.

Alarmed, he quickly clamored to his feet. He cried out when he tried to straighten, clutching at the misery in his back. He staggered off in this hunched-over fashion, still clutching his back. "Mis' Jane!" He cried, limping off in the direction of the shoats. "Mis' Jane, you cum on back hyah!"

Jane, who'd picked herself up and moved away from the pen almost as soon as she'd fallen, watched silently from a few yards away. She stood trembling and rigid, tears rolling down her muddy cheeks in torrents. "Oh, no," she whispered. "I did it again."

Stumbling, she turned on her heel and started running again, away from Pork, away from Robert, away from all the trouble she caused. She ran, regretting that the only thing she couldn't run away from was herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"What happened in here?"

Robert turned at the sound of his father's low, disinterested voice. Still soaked with runny manure from his earlier encounter, he was sweeping the aisle in the hopes of clearing away what remained of the mess. The now dirty stalls he still had yet to touch. He looked up and met his father's gaze. "Jane did," he spat, his words dripping with venom.

"Jane's up at the house."

"No, she ain't." Robert retorted quickly. "She come down here an' make this mess not two hours ago."

Will nodded slowly, switching the straw he chewed to the other side of his mouth. "Where she at now?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't know."

Will stepped back and let his eyes slowly survey the barn. "Stalls ain't clean," he said at last.

"They were until Jane tipped the barrow over!"

Will looked back down at Robert and saw that the boy was desperately trying to hold back a floodgate of tears. He heaved a small, imperceptible sigh and gently took the child by the hand. "Come on, son. Let's us go back up to the house."

They made their way silently across the yard, Will broodingly quiet and Robert biting his lip to keep from crying. Though their progress was slow, Will's funny gait alternating from a step with his right to a swing with his wooden left, Robert was forced to hurry along, taking twice as many steps to keep up with his father's long stride. Boo barked at the pair from the direction of the smokehouse and bounded up toward them, his tongue lolling out happily. Normally, Robert would have been glad for the dog's company, but right now, he was too upset and embarrassed to even acknowledge him. The dog whined and trotted alongside, licking the boy's manure-stained hand questioningly. Robert didn't even respond.

They moved carefully through the vegetable marrow and finally came upon Suellen's flower garden that bordered the back porch. "Git, Boo," Will murmured firmly. His wife hated Boo, ever since the day Will had adopted him. Despite his best attempts, she wouldn't have anything to do with the animal. She loathed the dog's presence and didn't see what good a pathetic-looking coon dog could do for the farm. Will didn't have to be reminded of the countless times she'd bawled him out for letting the dog into the house or giving him free roam of her garden.

The dog, as if understanding, turned and slunk off around toward the front of the house, his tail between his legs.

Silently, father and son ascended the three creaky wooden stairs to the back porch, and unceremoniously opened the screen door that entered into the kitchen.

The sight that greeted them was chaos. Prissy stood hunched over one of the kitchen cupboards, noisily dumping its contents onto the tarnished wooden floor. Pots, pans and knickknacks of every size and shape lay scattered across the floor. Every drawer, cabinet and cupboard stood empty and ajar. A glance in the direction of the dining room showed that the rest of the house was in much the same state. Upstairs, Dilcey could be heard stomping around and calling out for "Mis' Jane!" A crash sounded in one of the rooms and frantic footsteps approached from the hall.

Will and Robert stood just inside the door in utter bewilderment, staring at the shambles of their home in front of them.

"What's goin' on here?" Will finally asked, causing Prissy to scream and jump three feet off the ground.

"Lawdsy, Mist' Will!" Prissy squealed, turning round. Her hand fluttered about her chest dramatically. "You dun sceered me!"

"Hush, Prissy!" A sharp, weary voice commanded from the doorway.

The young maid immediately lowered her eyes and turned back to emptying the cupboard of its contents, though her hands shook uncertainly.

Suellen strode in from the doorway, her steely gaze distracted and compulsory. "You're scared by a good too many things. Hurry up, before I wear you out with the rug-beater!" She turned back to the doorway and, upon seeing her husband for the first time, marched over in his direction angrily. "Fine time for you to show yourself. Look at this mess! Just look at it!"

Will gazed down at her passively, a smile pulling at the corners of his face. Suellen seethed, looking fit to explode. Her face was flushed a very bright red and her blue eyes snapped menacingly. Her golden hair tumbled out of her bun haggardly, trailing over her shoulders in sorry-looking wisps. Her brows were knitted closely together over her face, her mouth curled down in a look of pure fury.

"Don't you dare laugh at me, Will Benteen! Don't you dare! I'll scream!" She cried, her voice already rising to the very brink of screaming.

"What's happened?" He asked calmly, his voice and face obligingly devoid of all emotion.

"What's happened? That stupid, silly little daughter of yours has run away, that's what's happened!"

Will frowned in concern. "What?"

"Jane!" Suellen cried, gesturing wildly with her arms. "She's gone! I've torn the house apart looking for her! She can't be hiding here, she's not clever enough to hide herself that well! Oh, that insufferable little…" Suellen moaned, clutching her forehead tiredly. "Why did she…if only I hadn't left her…if that stupid…oh, this is all _your _fault!" She frowned, thrusting her face up in front of her husband's.

"All right." He nodded acceptingly.

She shook with fury and let out a suppressed cry. If only he would scream and yell and throw things at her! How could he stay so calm? It drove her absolutely mad! "If you never had come here, we'd have lost Tara after the war! I wish we had, too! I hate Tara! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!" She stomped her foot on the ground and drew a long breath. "Then I never would've had to marry you, and we never would've had Jane, and you never would've taken in that stupid dog, and he never would've gotten into my flower garden and I never would've left the room and Jane would still be here!" Tears sprung up in her eyes and glistened brightly, threatening to fall. "You and your stupid dog! I told you to get rid of him! I told you! I told you!" She cried furiously, beating her fists against his chest.

Will slowly brought a hand up from his side and gently held her raging face in his palm, turning it up toward his. She frowned indignantly, but before she could breathe any more fire, he promptly leaned forward and planted his lips over hers.

Suellen pulled back, resistant at first, but Will held her close. The familiarly warm, soothing sensation soon washed over, clearing her mind and stilling her rage. She kissed him back, her hands lying flaccidly against his chest. She couldn't move; it was impossible. She was as limp as a rag doll in the sturdy, comforting arms of her husband. It only lasted for a moment, but it was a long moment, so immensely filled with sensual satisfaction that Suellen felt light-headed when Will broke off.

"You better now?" He asked quietly.

She nodded, too weak for words.

"Now, start at the beginning and tell me what happened."

"This morning," she began softly, her gaze turned unseeingly toward the door, "I was in the parlor. Sewing…mending…oh, it doesn't matter…" She swallowed and slowly continued. "Jane was seated at the desk, and doing everything in her power to push off her sentence work…the cheeky monkey. She acts as if copying Bible verses were the hardest thing in the world…" Her voice held no trace of its earlier malice. She spoke huskily, impersonally, as if relating a distant, long-forgotten dream. "Prissy came in and told me that…that Boo was in the garden…and I got up and left through the door here to go chase him out…and when I came back, she was gone." She sighed, her voice breaking. "At first, I thought she was just playing with me, so I sat there and waited for her to come back. I kept waiting for her to walk in, looking sorry for what she'd done, but she didn't come. I just _sat there _and she _didn't come!"_ The tears welled back up in her eyes. "Oh, _Will,_" she murmured, leaning into him and burying her face in his shoulder. "She could be anywhere by now!"

He patted her back gently, resting his nose on her unkempt golden curls and drawing a long, weary breath. "It's goin' to be okay, darlin'," he whispered, hugging her fiercely for a moment before pulling away. "I've got someone here who can tell us something 'bout our little runaway."

She looked up in astonishment, the obvious question forming on her lips. But before she could find her voice, Will gently turned and led out a damp, manure-stained child from where he'd been standing uncomfortably by the door. "Oh!" She cried, stooping down and swiftly pulling the boy close. In another moment, she was wiping his little face clean with the hem of her apron. "Robert, baby, what happened to you?"

"I'm okay, Mama." He smiled, swallowing his tears bravely. "It…it was Jane what done it. She come out to the barn couple hours ago."

"Oh, you're filthy as sin," Suellen murmured in concern, the apron having made little progress. "Do you hurt?"

He slowly shook his head.

"Thank God for that, at least," she murmured distractedly. "Prissy!" She called over her shoulder, making the maid squeal and drop the skillet she was holding with a crash. "Stop what you're doing and start filling the washbasin. The Young Master's in desperate need of a bath."

"Yas'm," the girl murmured, grabbing the large pail and slipping past them out the door, heading in the direction of the well.

"Mama, do I really have to?" The boy protested meekly. He loathed bathing, especially when his mother scrubbed him down so hard his skin began to peel.

"Yes." Suellen replied emphatically, pushing him toward the stairs. "Don't argue, either. Go upstairs, take your clothes off and hand them to Dilcey. I'll be along in a minute to give you your bath."

"Yes'm." The boy hung his head and reluctantly padded off in the direction of the staircase.

"She's prob'ly somewhere out on the grounds."

Suellen straightened and turned back to Will. "And the grounds go for acres in every direction! There's the road to the north, the woods to the south, the creek to the east, and that horrid old abandoned MacIntosh place to the west! She could be anywhere! Anything could have happened to her!"

"Don't get your Irish up, Sue."

"Don't you start telling me what to do!" Suellen frowned and pointed at the door. "Go! Find her! I don't care if you have to comb every last square inch of the place, but don't come back until you've found her! Do you understand?"

Will was silent for a long moment. His face, as ever, was unreadable, the only emotion visible simmering in the depths of his cloudy blue eyes. "Yes'm, I think I do," he said at last, stumping past her out to the front hall. He paused only to slip on his patched, gray coat to combat the late afternoon breeze and quietly left through the front door. When the door slammed shut behind him, Suellen gripped her temple and leaned against the wall, finally allowing herself to sob uncontrollably.

Will turned and stumped off the porch just as Susie and Martha came riding up the drive, laughing and unwinding from their leisurely hack. Martha had to hold on to her wide-brimmed hat to keep it from falling off, leaning forward in a fit of bright giggles. Susie effortlessly glided alongside in the sidesaddle, the reins looped loosely over one gloved hand as she gaily twirled her parasol with the other. Her smile illuminated her features, transforming her from sullen to radiant. She, too, shared in her sister's laughter until she caught sight of their father on the porch. The light-hearted mood evaporated and her face immediately fell. Martha looked up and placed a hand over her mouth, her gray eyes wide and imploring. His expression grim, Will went over to meet them as swiftly as he could.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" Martha asked worriedly, reining Dolly to a stop. Susie halted beside her, an anxious frown puckering her face.

Will waited until he was beside them, holding onto their horses' reins, before he spoke. "Your sister's gone. Missing. Your mama's tore the house apart and she ain't there. I need you two to help me search the farm."

Susie nodded. "Of course. I'll go through the woods. She can't have gone too far." Without another word, she spurred Sherman into action and trotted off toward the seedy pines bordering the west side of the property.

"And I'll take the creek," Martha volunteered, turning her horse in the opposite direction.

Will nodded. "Holler if you find anything and go on back to the house."

"I will!" She called, urging the tired mare into a canter. She disappeared around a bend in the property to the east, calling out Jane's name shrilly.

Will turned and made for the old cabins surrounding the cotton fields behind the house, his heart in his throat. Pushing all thought aside and letting instinct take over, he came about as fast to running as a man with only one leg could.

* * *

Jane, panting, finally slowed to a stop and leaned against the trunk of a pomegranate tree, wheezing to catch her breath. She sniffled pathetically and wiped her nose again. The tears endlessly flowed down her blotchy, brown face, blurring everything in the girl's vision.

At first, she seemed to have successfully outrun her troubles. The minute her feet slowed to a stop, however, her oppressing thoughts caught up to her. As the events of the past two days came flooding back, she cried out in anguish. She was so awful, she was horrible, she was the meanest, baddest noosen in the whole entire world! Not even her own family loved her. All she ever did was make them miserable. Jane closed her eyes and determinedly shook her head. Well, she would go live where no one would ever find her, where she wouldn't make anyone miserable anymore.

But where would she go live? Jane hadn't figured that out yet. She couldn't go live in the woods; Prissy said there was hants living in the woods. Jane didn't like hants. Hants probably didn't like noosens, either. She couldn't go live in the barn or the swamp. Too many people came and went to care for the animals, and one would surely find her. She considered one of the few abandoned slave cabins that still remained standing, but they would soon be filled with cotton bushels come harvesting time, and then she'd be discovered.

Jane scratched her head. There weren't many other places left for her to go. The old, wrecked plantation house bordering their land through the trees didn't afford much of a shelter at all; besides, it used to belong to Scotch-Irish Yankee sympathizers (her mother's words), which were the closest things on earth to Satan himself. For similar reasons, the dilapidated old cabin near the southeast corner of the swamp was also forbidden ground. Whenever Jane had asked her mother about it, Mrs. Benteen had gotten all tight-lipped and simply replied that it used to be the dwelling of "some no-account poor white trash folk," and muttered darkly about "cursing all their race to Hell," and "shooting the first one who ever dared showed their face around here again herself." She had no idea why her mother felt such vehement hatred for these long-gone people. Her father had only hinted to her that it had something to do with Jane's grandmother, Ellen Robillard O'Hara.

She looked in the direction of Tara's long, winding dirt drive, and thought about walking her way to town. Then she sighed and shook her head, giving up on the notion. Jonesboro was a good two miles away. It was a thirty-minute journey to get there, and even that was when riding in the back of the wagon. She'd _never _make it there on foot!

She huffed angrily and crossed her arms, sliding against the back of the trunk and plunking down on the ground. A few seconds later, however, she turned interestedly back toward the tree, running a hand over its smooth bark. Yes, why hadn't she thought of it before? She could live in one of the trees right there in the orchard! She'd have plenty of food and lots of shade, and no one would _ever_ think to look for her all the way up in a tree!

Without another thought, she grabbed the lowest hanging branches and expertly hauled herself up into the tree. She picked her way through the maze of branches awaiting her, easily finding the most efficient way to reach the top. Jane was the best tree-climber in the county. She could also swim the longest, spit the farthest, and had the best aim when it came to throwing stones. She was better than any of the boys, and what was worse, they knew it. The Parker twins, Brody McRae, and little Al Fontaine all sympathized with Jane's brother, Robert. His sister made for a terrific playmate. If only she'd been a _boy_ instead!

Birds perched high up in the tree fled at her approach. Squirrels hurriedly dashed for the safety of one of the nearby trees, stuffing their food in their mouths and effortlessly jumping from one branch to the next. Jane didn't mind their leaving. She wanted to be alone, anyway. Besides, birds and squirrels didn't care much for noosens.

She glanced at the ground, now twenty feet beneath her, and kept scaling the trunk. Higher, higher, and higher still she climbed. The leaves of the fruit tree provided a comforting shade from the heat of the late afternoon sun, and a comforting breeze riffled through the leaves and kissed her damp, muddy skin. Jane smiled. She could already tell she was going to like it here.

She was still climbing, now close to the top of the tree, when a sudden shout came from below, catching her off-guard.

"Jane!"

She gasped, turning her head in the direction of the voice. Now no longer looking where she was going, her hand reached up and grasped a small, wobbly branch. Her weight transferred from the previous branch to the next as she heaved herself upward. With an imperceptible snap, the twig broke off of the tree, and Jane was falling, down, down.

She screamed and closed her eyes, hurtling downward rapidly to the distant ground below. The branches buzzed past in a blur of brown and green, tearing her dress and scratching her skin on the way down. She could think of nothing, could hear nothing. She screamed for all she was worth and steeled herself for the coming impact.

Her fall was cut short, however, five feet from the ground. Two large arms reached out and caught her, cutting off her screams and drawing the breath out of her. She curled into a fetal position and gasped for breath, her heart pounding madly in her chest.

"Jane!"

Before she could regain her voice, she was being squeezed against her father's chest. She knew it was him immediately, as the heady aroma of sweat, leather and cotton filled her nostrils. The familiar smell comforted the girl, who slowly looped her arms around her father's neck. Will hugged her so tightly she couldn't breathe.

He held the little bundle of manure as close to him as was possible, not caring how badly she stunk. He ran his hands up and down her back, fervently blinking back tears of joyous relief.

He stood there silently for a long moment, hugging his little girl. She hiccoughed violently, the shock from her near fall finally catching up to her. When he trusted himself to speak, he gently relaxed his grip and sought to hold his daughter's gaze. "You all right?"

Jane, still gasping, nodded her head.

As soon as she did so, Will promptly set her down on the ground and gazed down at her admonishingly. "What in Creation's name do you think you're doin'? Your Mama's worried herself sick about you. You know you could've broke your neck? What would we all have done then? Did you ever stop to think before runnin' off and scarin' everyone to death? Of all the foolish…"

His voice trailed off into silence. Jane was fervently shaking her head, waging a losing battle with a barrage of tears that finally made her erupt into powerful, wailing sobs. Her face, blotched and red from crying, sniveled pathetically. Tears ran down her cheeks like a pair of swiftly flowing rivers. She held her hands behind her back, still shaking her head like a scolded child, letting the barrage of condemnation fall heavily on her head.

Will awkwardly hunkered down to her level, his right knee tucked underneath him and his unbendable left stretched out at an angle. He watched her quietly for a long time, waiting for her tears to subside. Finally, he asked, "What's wrong, baby?"

"Me!" She wailed brokenly. "I'm bad an'- an' I'm ho-horrible an' a n-noosen an' I c-can't do anything ri-right an' everyone in-n the whole wide world h-hates me!"

"I see." Will was quiet for a long time again, wordlessly handing her his bandana to blow her nose. The girl gingerly plucked it up and shrunk back, as if being too close to another person was enough for her to do something wrong again. He looked down and studied the grass, gently brushing a hand over the tops and thinking deeply. Finally, he moved over and gently lowered himself into a sitting position at the base of the tree, his legs stretched out in front of him. He looked over at Jane and patted his lap. "Come here."

She slowly slunk forward, head down and hands twisted up in the folds of her skirt. She stopped short about three feet away, eyeing the ground in front of her warily.

He fought to keep from smiling at his dingy little daughter, with her skin caked in mud and manure, her damp dress torn and rumpled, her hair hanging in matted clumps around her head and her face a shiny, muddy, blotchy mess. Only Jane, he thought fondly. "It's okay, baby. I ain't going to do nothin' to you," he murmured softly.

"But I might do somethin' to you." She squeaked and nervously craned her head up at the tree, waiting for it to come falling over on them at any second. "I'm a awful noosen."

Will smiled. "I'll take my chances."

Jane timidly inched her way up to him and, with obvious misgivings, slowly seated herself on her father's lap. He put his arm around her and she squirmed uncomfortably, her blue eyes anxiously scanning the area around them for any sign of potential trouble. He slowly tilted her chin up until she was looking him in the eyes.

"Would you like to hear a story?"

"Huh?" Jane sniffed, frowning in confusion. "Wh-what about?"

"About you, in a way."

Jane fervently shook her head. "No. Th-that's not a good story."

Will chuckled. "You ain't even heard it yet. How do you know if it's good or bad?"

"If it's about me, it has to be bad. I'm nothin' but bad," she moaned lamentably.

"All right, then." Will nodded and pretended to think. "How about a story about me…and about a lady I used to know?"

"What sort of lady?" She asked pensively, sensing a trick.

"About a great lady." He paused and gave her a knowing smile. "You never met her."

Jane thought for a second, then nodded. "Okay, I guess."

"Good girl." He gave her a small hug and gently rocked her to and fro. Jane was still stiff and tense in his arms. "Can you tell me what your full name is?"

"Hey, I thought this isn't about me!" She cried.

"It ain't. I just need your help to get it started." He reassured her flatly. Jane closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his soft, emotionless voice, the voice that fell like soothing music on her ears during evening prayers. Will smiled as he felt her relax a fraction and tried again. "Now, what's your full name?"

"My confirmation name or my christen name?"

Will laughed and sighed good-naturedly. "Your name as what's written in the family Bible."

"Jane Elizabeth Benteen," she murmured reluctantly.

"You know where that name come from?"

She shook her head, eyes still closed to avoid his gaze.

"There was a great lady I used to know, named Jane Elizabeth. I knew her a long, long time ago."

Jane looked up in surprise at her father. A _great lady_ named for _her?_ She sat up attentively. "How long ago?"

Will smiled and let his gaze roam past the orchard fields, over the hilly stretches of Tara's fields that lay beyond. "A long time ago, back before you was born, when I still had two legs…before the war started."

"Before the war…?" Jane breathed incredulously. She'd hardly ever heard any adult allude to the mysterious period in history before the devastating War of Secession. All they ever wanted to talk about was the War itself. "What was it like, Daddy?"

Will looked down at her tenderly. "It was a magical place, where everything was beautiful. Grand buildings stood that made our cities the most beautiful in all of America. Women wore fine gowns and all the men treated them rightly. Black and white folks got along and worked the land together, so that there was so much cotton, we didn't know what to do with it all. Lawmen could be trusted, and not feared. And all the damn Yankees stayed where they belonged and let us be."

"No damn Yankees? At all?"

Will shook his head. "Not a single one."

Jane smiled. "You're foolin' me. That can't be true, Daddy. You just made all that up. That's like a fairy land."

A grim expression crept over Will's face as he gazed back over the land. "It is now," he murmured.

"Daddy?" Jane asked uncertainly.

Will shook his head and turned his attention back to his daughter. "Well, that's what it was when it happened. My mama died when I was a very little boy, so I didn't have a parent to turn to for a long time…"

"Did you have a daddy?"

Will paused and shook his head. "No. I never had no daddy. No real daddy, anyway…"

"I'm sorry."

He looked down at her and smiled, hugging her close. "It wasn't until I was 'bout Martha's age that I met Miss Jane…Atkins, that is. Miss Jane Elizabeth Atkins…"

"The great lady?"

Will nodded. "The great lady. She became my patron, see…"

"What's a patron?"

He shook his head and laughed. "How about I tell you the story and you find out?"

"Oh. I'll be quiet now." Jane looked down and bit her lip. Why was it always so hard to do anything without messing it up? She couldn't even listen long enough to a story!

Will lowered his head and fought to meet her gaze. "Baby, you feel free to interrupt me as many times as you want to." He stroked her muddy locks and gently pushed them behind her ear. "Okay?"

Jane nodded and felt the color rise up in her cheeks. "Tell me about the great patron lady."

Will sighed and looked unseeingly across the orchard, his mind slowly reaching back through the many years separating him from his tale. "Well, it was a Sunday, I remember. I'd gone to early church so I could be at Miss Jane's house before she left for her noon services. She lived in town, see, and I lived in a cabin back in the woods, well off the main road. She had me paintin' her picket fence that went all around her flower garden. Miss Jane loved to plant flowers, the way your Mama does. I remember sittin' there with a bucket of paint outside, watchin' her carriage pull up to the front of the house, when I heard a noise from behind me…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Psst!"

Fifteen-year-old Will Benteen didn't even turn his head in the direction of the sound. His attention was focused on the elegant horse and carriage rounding the front drive. It wasn't often that he was so privileged to view such finery: that noble head, the spirited shake of its elegant mane, that impatient stomp of the foot. He was looking, naturally, at the horse. The rest of the scene held no connection to his life whatsoever. His family and the neighboring crackers outside of town owned horses themselves, but nothing like this magnificent creature. What _that _horse could do hitched up to a plow, Will longed to know.

"Psst! Hey, Will! Over here!"

Reluctantly, he turned to see his best friend and neighbor, Henry Kinlan, grinning at him from between two rails of the black iron gate surrounding the property. His light brown hair shone like copper over his laughing brown eyes. His high, dimpled cheeks were covered in a smattering of freckles and his lips were curled upward in an impish, gap-toothed smile.

Will, by contrast, was lean and thin. He had a high forehead and a roman nose that was far too large for his face. His pale, pinkish hair tufted over his face like cotton chaff and refused to stay out of his water-washed blue eyes, no matter how many times he pushed it back. In the place of freckles, he sported blotches of bright red acne. He was very much Henry's opposite. While Henry was dark, Will was pale. While Henry was short, Will was tall. While Henry was anxious, Will was calm. While Henry was strikingly handsome, Will was exceedingly plain.

Will shook his head and waved a hand at him in a manner that was well accustomed to his friend's antics. "Get your head outta there 'fore Miss Jane sees you."

"But Will, we's supposed to practice toad catchin' over at Ruddy's. You know we need to. The Everett brothers been practicin' real hard, and they's the best toad catchers in the county. You know we need to. They practically lives with the toads back in that swamp, an' if we don't practice they's gonna whup us good. You know we need to."

Will sighed and wondered how Henry had ever roped him into the silly contest in the first place. It had started innocently enough. Every Sunday, down at the First United Baptist Church, the sharecroppers' children would play games together out in the churchyard. As the boys grew older, the games had grown into competitions of skill and daring that took place anywhere, any day of the week. And Henry hadn't been able to keep his big mouth shut when Hugh Everett bragged in Sunday School about how he caught four toads in one hour. Now he, Will, and Ruddy Simmons were set to have a toad catching competition against the Everett boys a week from Saturday.

Will resignedly shook his head and gestured to the bucket of whitewash. "I got a duty to Miss Jane. Unless you'd like to do it for me…"

Henry eyed the bare fence left to paint and his face fell. "No way, no how. I'll go practice with Ruddy, then. He needs to practice. He ain't never catched a toad in his life."

"Then how come you asked him to be on our team?"

Henry grinned. "Cause he's got that big ol' muddy pond on his place to practice with, an' cause his daddy's got all them pitchers of naked ladies."

Will nodded. "Oh." He looked down and returned to his work.

_"Daddy…"_

"Ow!"

Will looked back over at his friend and saw Henry desperately trying to yank his head back against the bars. "What's the matter?"

"I'm stuck!" The boy cried, his voice rising in alarm.

Blowing a small sigh through his nose, Will got up and slowly walked over to where Henry was stuck in the gate. He crouched down and placed a hand on the boy's head. "Now, hold still."

_"Dad-dy…"_

"Be sure to clear that mess away and send my card to Mrs. Layton. Tell the cook to start preparing supper in an hour. I shall be back by half past noon."

"Yas'm, Mis' Jane."

Will gasped and whirled around, standing up abruptly. He shielded Henry's crouched form with as much of his body as he could, his eyes turned toward the drive. He was just in time to see Nazareth, Mrs. Atkins' aged butler, open the door and prepare to hand his mistress up into the waiting carriage.

* * *

"Daddy!"

Will calmly looked down and smiled at his irate daughter. Jane had folded her arms and was staring up at him crossly. "Yes, darlin'?"

"Why did it matter, that boy havin' pictures of naked ladies? That don't have nothing to do with toad catching, do it?"

Will paused and thought for a minute. "Did I say naked ladies?"

Jane slowly nodded.

He thought for a little bit longer, his eyes scanning the red clay horizon. When he turned back to her, there was an amused light glowing faintly in the depths of his blue eyes. "What I meant to say was, that boy had a treasure. A rare and…and beautiful treasure. A secret treasure."

"Oh."

Will opened his mouth to continue, but before he could speak, Jane raised a finger questioningly, the confused frown still in place. "But what did him having a secret treasure have to do with anything?"

Will laughed and nuzzled her affectionately. "Cause Daddy hadn't never seen the treasure before, and he wanted to know what it looked like."

"Okay." Jane, finally content, smiled and relaxed against his shoulder. Her father hugged her to him gently. He paused, waiting for her to speak. Jane shook her head, satisfied for the time being. "Go on, Daddy."

* * *

Mrs. Jane Elizabeth Atkins was, as always, a picture of dignified beauty. She was poised and refined, and carried herself regally. Her stiff back was ramrod straight, and her thin, bony shoulders were set with an unwavering determination. Her tiny brown-black eyes glared piercingly out from the wrinkled folds of her white skin. They sparkled beneath her severe brows and her head of elegantly coiffed dark gray hair. Her small, age-spotted hands lay clasped in front of her like two skeletal claws. She was adorned austerely, clad in a long black mourning gown for her husband, Mr. George Atkins, who'd died not three years ago. She moved with slow and deliberate steps toward the waiting carriage, Nazareth holding a black umbrella over her head to protect his mistress from the bright afternoon sun.

Will held his breath and watched her reverently from the fence. The fierce old gentlewoman had the presence of a queen. Her appearance alone never failed to make him acutely aware of his own humbleness. Had he not been trying to cover for Henry, he might have sunk to his knees. As he stood, he could feel Henry bumping his head against the back of his knees, trying frantically to yank himself out.

Mrs. Atkins paused when she reached the carriage. But instead of offering her hand to be helped up into the waiting coach, she turned her head and looked blankly at where Will stood in the garden. "A moment please, Tomlin," she murmured to the driver before slowly gliding toward the iron fence. She stopped, still gazing at Will, who stood against the opposite fence line.

Will swallowed nervously. _She knows. _Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He reached around and placed his long, bony hands on Henry's head. He pushed the boy's head back against the fence, causing Henry to moan uncomfortably.

"You, boy!"

His stomach dropped as he saw Mrs. Atkins raise a skeletal finger and beckon it toward her coldly. "Come here."

Will released his grip on Henry's head and slowly pointed at himself. "Me, Miss Jane? I…I don't…rightly know…if…if…I can," he squeaked.

"I didn't ask you if you could or not." She snapped. "I gave you a simple order. Now, come here."

He heard Henry still struggling behind him. He eyed the yard frantically, fishing for more time. "But…but Miss Jane…I got all this fence…" He gestured wordlessly to the abandoned bucket of whitewash sitting next to the unpainted picket surrounding her garden. "All this fence…to paint…still. It's…it's gonna take…all morning, I reckon."

Mrs. Atkins frowned and waved her hand impatiently. "Never mind about the fence. I want you to come here, up to me, right now!"

With a cry of pained triumph, Henry fell free from the bars and scampered away down the street. Will sighed in relief and hung his head, trudging toward where his stately patroness stood. "Yes'm, Miss Jane."

He stopped before the chest-high wall of black wrought iron that separated him from Mrs. Atkins and waited to be scolded. Instead, his clear blue eyes widened in surprise as Miss Jane swiftly placed a hand underneath his chin and twisted his face up toward her in the light.

She frowned down at him appraisingly. She was silent for a long while, turning his head to the right, left, and every other direction as she studied him. Finally, she said, "You're homely."

"Yes'm." Will lowered his gaze in embarrassment.

Mrs. Atkins finally released her hold on him and nodded. "Never matter. You'll do."

"Pardon, Miss Jane." Will cocked his head in mild confusion. "Do for what?"

She didn't answer him, turning back toward the waiting carriage. She only said over her shoulder, "See me immediately upon my return."

"Yes'm," he murmured gently, tentatively raising a hand in farewell. But she'd already disappeared into the cavernous coach. With a rattle, the wheels began turning back down the long, winding drive.

The boy shrugged, thinking no more of it. He crouched down next to the short picket fence and diligently began to paint.

* * *

"Yes'm, Miss Jane?" Will murmured as he felt a gentle tug on his shirt. He looked down and smiled at the muddy child who lay curled up against him, a questioning look in her bright blue eyes.

"I don't like her."

"Who, Mrs. Atkins?"

Jane nodded. "She's a mean ole lady, ain't she?"

Will shook his head. "Miss Jane…Atkins…was a gentlewoman. And I warn't good company. I was a pore Cracker. She had to talk down to me, cause she was in a much higher station of society."

"But why, Daddy? Why warn't you in a higher station of society?"

Will smiled. "Cause I was born that way." Still seeing the confusion on her muddy face, he chuckled and shook his head. "You can't understand it, Jane. I told you, things was very different before the War. If the War hadn't never happened, you wouldn't be here. A man like me couldn't never marry a lady like your Mama, ever. She's got gentle-blood. I ain't. And to most folks, includin' your Mama's family, that makes a hell of a difference."

"So how come you did marry her?"

"Circumstances, caused by the War." He looked down at her and smiled. "That's a different story for a different day."

Jane clung to his shirt and nestled her head on his bony shoulder. "I still don't like her. The great lady. She don't seem so great, callin' you ugly like that."

"Miss Jane spoke the truth." Will murmured emotionlessly. "I warn't nowhere near pretty then, and I still ain't pretty now." He stroked her muddy clumps of hair and smiled at her affectionately. "It's a blessing that I got three very pretty daughters."

Jane blushed and smiled happily. She reached up and drew a streak of mud across her father's face with her dirty finger. "There. Now you're pretty like me."

"Thanks, darlin'."

"What did she want you for? The mean – I mean, the great lady. What did she want to see you about?"

Will sighed and looked back out over the Pomegranate orchard. "Well, I'll tell you. That's when the trouble all started…"

* * *

"How'uz Sunday Services, Mis' Jane?" Cook asked, grinning a full, ivory-toothed smile as she set her mistress's lunch down on the long mahogany dining table.

"Terrible." Mrs. Atkins waited for Nazareth to pull her chair out for her before delicately seating herself. "The Reverend's sermon was _far _too long. Has he no consideration for the patrons of his church? Judge Taylor's wife nearly missed her luncheon at the county courthouse. I really _must _say something to Mrs. Watkins about it. I imagine she could say something to her husband about his long-winded lectures!"

Nazareth gently stooped down and murmured in her ear, "Mis' Jane, boy here ter see you."

"Boy? What boy? Can't you see I'm in the middle of a very late supper?" She snapped crossly, picking up her fork.

She paused, however, as the form of her tall, lanky Sunday servant loomed uncertainly in the doorway. Whitewash spattered the front of his overhalls and speckled his long, sallow arms. He held his wide-brimmed straw hat in his hands, his gaze lowered submissively to the floor.

"It's me, ma'am. Will. You said you wanted to see me," he mumbled lowly.

"Oh, you. Of course. Come sit down." She gestured to the seat across from her impatiently with her fork. "Cook, fix another plate for…" She waved her hand in his direction.

"Will, ma'am." He supplied helpfully.

"Yes." She glanced at him fleetingly. "You haven't eaten, have you?"

Will shook his head, reaching up to push his sweaty, pale-pinkish locks out of his eyes. "No'm. But Cletus, he was real good to me and went inside and fetched me a glass of lemonade while I was workin' on the…"

"Who's that?" She asked curtly.

"Your gardener, ma'am."

"Oh. Right." She speared a helping of roast beef, then paused as she saw the seat across from her was still empty. "Have you not sat down yet?"

"Well'm," Will looked down at his hat and clenched it tighter, shifting from foot to foot uneasily in the doorway. "It's real nice of you an' all to offer me a meal at your table, but I couldn't rightly…"

"Don't tell me you Crackers are a proud sort!" She shook her head at the ridiculousness of the notion. "Sit down."

"Yes'm." He murmured quietly, giving up and sliding roughly down into the seat she'd offered him. He'd no sooner situated himself than Cook set a large, steaming plate of food down before him. His clear blue eyes widened to twice their size as they took in the contents of the plate. Not only did the plate contain a heaping portion of roast beef and a large dinner roll, but a mound of both corn _and _peas. He'd never seen two different vegetables on a plate together, let alone such a variety of food in one meal. The mixture of aromas taunted his nose, inviting him to dig in.

Mrs. Atkins lifted her glass of rosewater to her mouth and frowned down at Will. "What's the matter, boy? Don't you like it?"

"Yes'm, I like it." Will nodded quickly. "But, ma'am….I got me a little baby sister back home."

"How quaint," she murmured, setting the glass down.

"Well'm, I was just wonderin'…if I could take some of this home for her? I know she'd be real appreciative, and grateful to you…"

Mrs. Atkins waved a hand at him impatiently. "Yes, yes. Whatever you don't eat I'll have Cook put in a sack for you to take home."

"Thank you kindly, ma'am." Will concentrated on his plate as he picked up his silverware and ravenously dug in.

Miss Jane slowly set down her fork and watched the boy eat, a slight wrinkle in her nose her only indicator of emotion. Finally, when she could be silent no longer, her cut-glass voice rang out over the noisy sounds of his eating. "I suppose you're wondering why I asked you here."

"Huh?" Will mumbled around a mouth full of food. "Yes'm, I reckon so."

Miss Jane closed her eyes and slowly swallowed the bile rising in her throat. The sight of his green tongue speckled with food particles was too much for her to bear. "First," she said sternly, "you will swallow before speaking to me again."

Will abruptly clapped his mouth shut and took a sip of water. He looked down at his plate. "Sorry, ma'am."

"Secondly, you will look at me when you address me."

Will slowly raised his eyes to meet her scrutinizing brown-black gaze. It unnerved him immensely, but he held it with as much courage as he could muster.

"That's better." She paused, still holding his gaze. She folded her hands together on the table, her bony form straight and tall in her seat. "You repulse me."

Will opened his mouth to speak, but she continued without waiting for him. "But that is about to change. It will take a tremendous amount of patience and time on my behalf, but I believe that with the proper schooling you will perform excellently."

"Pardon me, Miss Jane." Will leaned forward over his plate, his arms propped up on the table. "I don't rightly know what you mean."

"Take your arms _off _the table." Miss Jane commanded. Will complied immediately. "Perhaps I need to make myself more clear." She stared severely down at Will, making the boy squirm. "For the past three years, you have come here every Sunday to do work for me. You felt it was only right to provide your services for me, and we've had a form of unspoken agreement concerning your work ever since. You've come here of your own volition and performed every chore I've given you without question or complaint. You're a very efficient and hardworking boy. You Crackers have always been a very hardworking sort. But you lack propriety, that which comes naturally with good breeding. Your manners are horrendous, you've no more looks than a common dog and I doubt you've received much of an education. Your grammar is terrible."

"I went to Miss Lula Pritchard's night school as a boy, ma'am," Will murmured. "I know figures and dollars and cents, and such. I can read, too… a little."

"No more than I would've expected, though I suppose poor education is better than none." For the first time, Will imagined he saw a smile tug at the corners of Miss Jane's mouth. "You're a far cry from a young gentleman. But I like you. You're much more of a man than that…that…_beastly devil_ of a father. You may prove your worth in the world yet."

"'Scuse me, Miss Jane." Will interposed. He held her gaze, his clear blue eyes conveying nothing of his emotions to her. "Why are you tellin' me all this?"

Miss Jane paused and broke her gaze for the first time, rearranging her silverware on either side of her plate. "Mrs. Layton is to give an afternoon tea one week from this Saturday for all of the society matrons and their sons, grandsons, nephews, and the like. It is to be a very important town function, with the young men as the guests of honor. They, in turn, are expected to uphold the principles their family represents not only at the party, but as a continuing generation of the old families in this town. Mister Atkins and I, as you may know, never had any children. Nor had we any brothers or sisters, and therefore no nephews. I must, however, find someone to represent the important position I hold in our society." She glanced at him and sighed. "And I suppose my common Sunday chore boy is the best that I can do."

"Do I understand you right, Miss Jane?" Will paused, his finger in the air as he gathered his thoughts. "You want _me, _Will Benteen, to be your guest of honor at a tea party?"

"If you insist on saying it that way, yes." She curtly nodded and motioned for Cook to begin clearing the plates.

Will watched Cook as she lifted his plate away. The leering Negress winked at him. "Doan' you worry, boy. Ah puts dis up fo' you ter tek ter de lil' gurl."

He nodded and watched her bustling form spirit the plate away into the kitchen.

"…I have to prepare you first, of course."

Will quickly turned around and looked up at Miss Jane. "Pardon, ma'am?"

Miss Jane closed her eyes and drew a deep sigh. "Before you're to go anywhere as anyone's guest of honor, I must prepare you first. You've hardly any of the deportment necessary to convey yourself as a young gentleman in society. For the next two weeks, I shall endeavor to instill in you as much of that deportment as I can. This means lessons. Extensive lessons, every morning for the next two weeks."

Will slowly shook his head. "Miss Jane, I got to pick cotton. Daddy ain't gonna like that."

"You will be here, promptly on my doorstep, at seven o'clock in the morning. We will end each lesson with a lunch, and then you may return home to whatever manual labor it is that you do." Miss Jane sniffed.

Will slowly nodded, realizing that he did not have any choice in the matter. "Yes'm."

Cook returned, handing Will a burlap sack that was folded over on top. "Ah puts sum sweet ceks in dar fo' de youn' missus," she said jovially.

"Thank you, ma'am," he whispered quietly.

_"Daddy, question!"_

* * *

"Yes, darlin', what is it?" Will asked slowly, turning his attention back to his daughter.

"Why did you go an' work for her every Sunday if you didn't have to?"

Will's unreadable face suddenly grew worn and haggard. "Well, baby, I owed her an unpayable debt. Helpin' her out around her house every week was the very least I could do."

"What did you do to get in debt?"

"You're too young to know, Jane," he murmured quietly, his face in his hands.

"_Everyone _says I'm too young." Jane folded her arms and pouted. "I'm _not _too young! Nobody never tells me anything! I'm a big girl now, too, you know!"

"How old are you, again?"

Jane silently held up both of her hands and waggled all ten fingers at him.

"Then you are a big girl. Straighten up and start actin' like one and I'll tell you."

Jane eagerly sat up in her father's lap, composing herself gracefully like the little lady she was. She stared up at him and waited patiently for him to go on.

"It ain't somethin' I'm proud of." He sighed, straightening and looking solemnly down at her.

"What did you do, Daddy? Steal somethin'?"

Will slowly shook his head. "Warn't somethin' I done. But my daddy…my daddy…he killed Mr. Atkins. And I saw him do it."

Jane gasped, her eyes wide in shock. "But…but I thought you said…you said you didn't have no daddy."

"That's because he warn't no daddy to me, nor to anyone else. He was a monster. He killed Mr. Atkins, and he killed my ma before him." For the first time in years, Will's voice shook. "He didn't love no one. He violated women like they was his property. He hurt me, and he took advantage of my sister. He whipped his dogs. I don't think he was ever sober at any minute that I knew him. And I hated him…I _hated _him…and I hope he's burnin' in Hell right now for all he's done."

Jane shrank back from the intensity in his gaze. "Daddy, you're scarin' me."

I'm sorry, darlin'." He softened his gaze and gave her a gentle hug. "But I do wish you hadn't asked."

"But Daddy…if it was your daddy what killed him, then why did you try to pay it back for him?"

Will smiled at her. " 'The sins of our fathers shall be visited upon the sons.'"

Jane looked down and nodded silently.

"Anyway," Will looked back out over the horizon. "Miss Jane had just told me all about this tea party, and…"

"Daddy?"

"Yes?"

Jane shifted uncomfortably, picking at the dirt on her fingers. "I'm sorry…sorry that you had such a awful daddy."

"It's all water under the bridge, baby. I ain't hurtin' no more." Will smiled. Jane's heart soared. Her father was an unwavering pillar of strength. Nothing ever upset him!

"And Daddy?"

"Mmm?"

"You're a wonderful daddy."

Will nodded calmly but gave her an affectionate squeeze before he continued. "Now, Miss Jane had told me about this harebrained plan of hers to make me into a gentleman, and she started workin' out how she was goin' to go about it…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

" '…however, there is a…prov-ision, alike…marvellous and merciful, that the sufferer should never know the…in-ten-si-ty of what he…endures by its…present torture, but chiefly by the pang that…rankles after it.'" Will sighed and looked wearily up at his merciless tutor. "Miss Jane, how much longer do I got to go on sittin' here?"

"Until you're able to sit up straight without that board behind you. And don't ask again. It's rude to ask a lady questions." Mrs. Atkins tapped the novel that lay open on the boy's lap before continuing to walk in her circle around his chair. "Continue."

Will resignedly turned back to the page and searched for his spot. He'd begun reading aloud from Nathaniel Hawthorne's latest sensation, '_The Scarlet Letter_,' one day ago. Miss Jane, when presenting it as his reading lesson, had praised the book to no end. But Will could care less for it. There were too many words that made him stop and carefully sound out before going on. He'd lost all sense of trying to find a story within the sentences. To him, the pages only posed an obstacle of wordy nonsense.

" 'With almost a…serene…de-port-ment,'" Will looked up suddenly, the word strikingly familiar. "Miss Jane, ma'am…"

"Go on, go on." Mrs. Atkins removed the board from where it was propping his back up. "And stay sitting straight while you read."

" '…there-fore, Hester Prynne passed through this…por-tion of her or-deal, and came to a sort of…scaffold, at the west-er-n…ex-tre-mi-ty of the market-place.'" Will set the book down. "Miss Jane, if you don't mind, I'd rather not read any more of this."

Mrs. Atkins seated herself in the great winged chair across from his stool. She eyed him coolly, her brown-black beady gaze penetrating the clear, water-washed depths of his. "Well? Make your argument as to why not while sitting up straight."

Will squared his shoulders in a conscious reminder not to slouch before speaking. "They's fixin' to put someone up on that scaffold I just read about, ain't they?"

_"Aren't _they," Miss Jane corrected sharply, nodding.

"Miss Jane, have you ever been to Court Day?"

"What a ridiculous question," she scoffed, still nodding.

"You ever been to the courtyard on Court Day?"

"Heavens, no! I don't partake in the vulgar entertainment provided for the common swamp rats," she sneered primly, inclining her head to a condescending angle.

"I been there. They's got a scaffold out there. And on Court Day, folks can come by and watch the people get hanged. It's niggers, mostly, but sometimes it's some pore person like you or me…beggin' your pardon, ma'am, not you, but like me…" He shook his head at the stumble, glancing momentarily at the book still lying in his lap.

"Eyes up!" She commanded sharply.

Will immediately obeyed. "Sorry, ma'am. Anyway, I never cared much for seein' people hanged on the scaffold…and I don't think I'd care much for readin' about it, neither."

_"Either,"_ she corrected before slightly lowering her head. "Boy, have you understood any of what you're reading aside from the occasional word?"

Will shook his head, squaring his shoulders again to sit up straighter.

"If you'd better comprehension, you'd understand that the woman they're going to put up on the scaffold isn't going to be hanged. She's simply going to stand there where the people can look upon her and condemn her for the common criminal she is."

"Pardon, ma'am. I told you I could only read a little…what did the lady do?"

"The _woman,_" Mrs. Atkins began, eying him harshly, "a married parishioner of the town, committed adultery and bore another man's child."

"Oh…so why's they treatin' her like a criminal?"

"Because it's a moral sin." Mrs. Atkins clawed at the arms of her chair, shaking her head at the boy sitting straight and tall before her. "Nowadays, we let those cheap, vulgar women well enough alone in the gutters where they belong. But in Puritanical Boston, it was no worse than murder." Her thin voice came down condemningly on the subject.

"I see." Will nodded blankly.

"All right. Now, will you pick it back up and continue?"

Will was silent for a long time. Finally, he slowly shook his head. "No, ma'am, I don't think I will."

Miss Jane gaped at him, her haughty face incredulous. "And why ever not?"

"It ain't right to treat ladi – women that way, even if they do got themselves another man's child." His clear blue eyes met her gaze evenly. "Most times a crime like that ain't even in their control."

* * *

Henry sat underneath a seedy pine tree, leering at a book full of paintings and lithographs, his tongue lolling out happily. Next to him sat a small, dirty boy with a slight, wiry frame and a pug nose. One of his eyes was larger than the other because he'd been kicked in the head by a mule as a small child. The eye the mule had kicked was small and squinty. But one only ever saw glimpses of it, because he wore his rust-colored hair long enough in front that it covered up his eyes. His mouth was full of crooked teeth that grew in every which direction, with a gaping hole where one of his eyeteeth had been ripped out. He'd lost it when the neighboring coon dog had attacked him out in the woods and he'd bitten into the dog's ear. The dog ended up losing a piece of his ear and the boy an entire tooth. Folks liked to whisper that it made him plum crazy. But he was a harmless little boy (all his brains had been kicked out by the mule), and he was fun to be around, as far as Crackers went.

They both looked up quickly as they heard footsteps echo on the dusty, dirt drive. Henry craned his head and peered around the tree at the approaching visitor. "It's Will," he murmured, panic-stricken. "Hurry, let's make like we's been practicin' real hard."

They shoved the pictures – er, treasure – underneath a burlap sack and dashed for the muddy pond lying only a few feet away. They dove into the slop, wading around and dumping it onto themselves. They cast their eyes down in search of the elusive toads lurking somewhere beneath the murky surface.

Will slowly trudged up to the edge of the pond, his gaze cast down emotionlessly at the boys.

Henry crossed his arms. "Hey, Will, where you been?"

"We's been practicin' real hard," The dirty little boy chimed in, holding two handfuls of mud up demonstratively.

"Shut up, Ruddy," Henry snapped over his shoulder.

Will paused and blew a noiseless sigh, brushing cotton fuzz off of his arms. "Workin'. Daddy ain't gonna bring the crop in, so's I got to…"

Henry shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. Ever'one knows _that. _Why'd it take you until sundown to get it done? You's the fastest cotton-picker around."

"I didn't start until noon," He murmured quietly. But instead of looking down at his bare feet, he was boldly looking Henry in the eye. His friend squirmed, unaccustomed to such direct eye contact from Will.

"What 'samatter, Will? This is the third time we was set to practice at three and you didn't come till six. It ain't like you to work so late ever' day." Henry cocked his head, standing his ground and holding his friend's gaze.

Will opened his dry mouth, his thoughts spinning over at a rapid pace. He didn't want to tell Henry what he'd been up to the past week. He was, actually, embarrassed to let his friend know he'd been taking etiquette lessons from Miss Jane every morning. Never mind that he did it against his inclination and better judgment. Henry would never let him live it down. He was still unsure of what to say when Ruddy's excited yell diverted the boys' attention to the far end of the pond.

"I got one! I got one! Hey y'all, I got one!" Ruddy held his prize in both hands, sloshing through the pond toward them excitedly. "Lookie here! I catched me a toad!" He cackled, holding it out for Henry's inspection.

The dark-haired boy glanced at it and groaned. "Ruddy, that ain't no toad. That's just a dumb ol' rock."

"Oh." Crestfallen, he dropped it back in the pond and began feeling around again beneath the water.

"I'm here now, anyway." Will pushed his sleeves back up over his elbows and started down toward the water. "Let's do like Ruddy and go ahead and practice."

"Will, I cain't keep on practicin' this late." Henry shook his head admonishingly. "My mama don't like that I let my dinner get cold. An' Ruddy's daddy, he likes to go squirrel huntin' after dark. He says we's disturbin' the squirrels when we practice so late."

Will nodded. "Okay. Then let's practice some other time." He sank down into the knee-deep mud, bending over and diligently beginning to comb the pond.

"You still ain't gonna be able to pick cotton in the mornin'?" Henry stood over his doubled-over friend, arms still crossed.

"I'm afraid so, yes," Will mumbled, his concentration already on the task at hand.

"Why?"

Before Will could answer him, Ruddy fished a brown object out of the pond with a cry of triumph. "I got one! I really got one this time!"

"Let me see." Henry craned his head over to look at Ruddy's palm. His look of curiosity quickly changed to one of hearty dismay. "That's the same rock you picked up last time, stupid!"

Ruddy looked down at it sadly, running his fingers over the bumpy surface. "It's a really toady rock." Shaking his head, he threw it up on the bank and turned back to his searching.

"Why don't we do it in the mornin'?"

"Huh?" Will asked, a note of alarm in his voice.

Henry sighed. "Look, Will, we got only a week left until that toad catchin' contest with the Everett brothers. We's gonna need all the practice we can get. Why don't we practice in the mornin' before you has to go off and do whatever it is you do that's makin' you so late all the time?"

Will sighed. "Do you really want to practice catchin' toads 'fore six in the mornin'?"

"Six!" Henry's brown eyes widened in astonishment. "Will, I'm just gettin' out to the fields at six! There ain't no way I can be at Ruddy's 'fore six!"

Will straightened his gangling form and gazed emotionlessly down at his friend. "Well? When are we gonna practice, then?"

"I don't know. Since when did you get so busy all of a sudden, anyhow?" Henry squinted up at the taller boy. Something just wasn't adding up in his young mind. Will was hiding something, and he was determined to find out what it was. "Just what is it that makes you roll outta bed 'fore six in the mornin' and start work at noon?"

Will was quiet for a long time. Finally, he said, "A family duty."

"Is that right?"

Will nodded. He reached up and pushed his pale-pinkish hair out of his eyes with his muddy hand. The action streaked his bare forehead a dark greenish-brown. "Yeah."

"What sort of family duty?"

Will was silent for a long time, gazing down at his friend. Finally, he shook his head. "I can't tell you."

"Sort of a secret, huh?"

Will nodded. "But it's real important, Henry. I can't get out of it, even if I tried." A movement redirected his gaze to the waters just behind Henry's ankle. With one swift motion, he leaned over and scooped a startled horny toad up out of the water. "Got one."

Henry sighed. "All right, I guess. It ain't you that needs to practice so much. I guess me an' Ruddy can go ahead an' practice at three without you…" He looked up at his friend pleadingly. "But, Dan Tucker, Will, we just get so much more done with you here!"

Will held the struggling toad in his hands, tight enough to keep the little creature from slipping away, but gently enough that it wasn't crushed to death. Henry watched the other boy's deft handling of the toad as if spellbound. Will instinctively knew how to handle animals, from a mule to a muskrat. It was as if he could read their thoughts and heed their concerns. He just knew things without ever being told. Henry shivered. Often times, it seemed as if Will could do the exact same thing with humans.

Which was why he jumped suddenly when Will slowly spoke. "How about we do at least one great big practice, all three of us together, the mornin' before the contest? The contest ain't until late afternoon when everyone's done pickin' cotton anyhow. It'd do us good to get up early and practice on Saturday. Like at five?"

Henry considered for a moment and nodded, liking the proposal. "That sounds good, Will. But you promise you's gonna show up? At five? An' we can all three of us have a big long practice 'fore the contest?"

Will smiled calmly. "I promise."

Henry grinned his gap-toothed smile. "I don't got to go make you sign in blood to keep that promise, do I?"

Will laughed, thinking of all the times little superstitious Henry had made him prick himself and sign away on all sorts of childish promises, from agreeing to share their last reefer to never telling Mrs. Kinlan who'd broke the front porch step. "No, you don't got to do that no more. I'll be here. I promise."

Henry nodded. "Good. We's really gonna need all the practice we can get."

"I got one!" Ruddy suddenly proclaimed, holding an actual toad up in his hands. Henry and Will both looked at the boy incredulously. But before anyone could say anything, the toad leapt out of his hands and plopped back into the water. "Well, I _had _one," he moaned.

Henry looked down at the rippling pond sadly. "Forget the practice. We's really gonna need all the miracles we can get."

* * *

Will sat down at the desk chair Mrs. Atkins had pulled out for him. He looked at the fully inked pen standing up next to the blank sheets of paper and a closed primer. Miss Jane had written out sentences in the primer for him to copy in order to improve his handwriting. He'd never written much, so he was curious to discover how much he'd retained since night school. He opened up the black primer to the first handwritten pages and studied them silently. His clear blue eyes grew rounder. "Miss Jane, ma'am."

"Yes, well, what is it?" Mrs. Atkins resignedly turned from where she'd been rearranging a vase of flowers and walked over to where the boy sat.

"I thought you was givin' me words to copy." Will murmured, pointing at the book.

Mrs. Atkins nodded. "Well, that's just what I've given you."

"In English?"

"Of course!" Mrs. Atkins shook her head in annoyance.

"Then how come I can't read nothing?"

"Can't read _anything," _she automatically corrected. Her skeletal hand gestured to the page Will had open before him. "It's just slanted and curving because it's written in cursive."

"What's that?"

"Handwriting." Mrs. Atkins sighed. "If you're going to write a letter, an acceptance, an invitation, any correspondence of any sort, you write in cursive. That's the protocol. It would be very childish or uncouth to write in any other form."

Will studied it and shook his head. "I don't know nothing about writin' cursive."

"Then show me what you _do _know how to write."

Will diligently picked up the pen and began writing on the blank sheet of paper. He made his marks so slowly that it took Miss Jane several minutes before she realized he was writing down his alphabet. The large, sloppily scrawled 'A, b, c, D…' were composed of various shapes and sizes. Some were uppercase, others lowercase. Just looking over his shoulder at it made her cringe. "All right, that's enough," she ordered, snatching the page out from beneath him and holding it up for her inspection. He'd gotten no further than the beginnings of what she supposed to be the letter 'F.' She shook her head at the terrible mess. "Dear Father in Heaven," she murmured.

"I'm sorry, Miss Jane." Will hung his head in embarrassment. "I ain't one much for writin'. Don't got much use for it."

Miss Jane, however, had set the paper back down on the desk. She plucked the pen out of his grasp and began drawing lines on the rest of the page. When she'd finished making the lines, she began writing on the page herself. Will leaned over and watched her bold loops and smart, flashy turns with the quill. When she'd finished, she set the page back down in front of him.

"It seems like we're going to have to start farther back than I'd imagined. Look here." She pointed to her own writing on the drawn lines. "I've written a few words here lightly enough for you to trace over yourself. When you've trained yourself to keep your marks in neat, orderly rows, you can go back to freehanded writing."

Will nodded. "Yes'm, Miss Jane."

She inclined her head and watched as he began to carefully follow the curves and loops with his own hand. Feeling the heat of her gaze, he was very slow and methodical in his work so as not to make a single mistake. The form of the words was funny and foreign to his hand. He didn't understand any of what he traced.

Suddenly, his pen swooped sharply off the faint line as Mrs. Atkins took hold of his chin and twisted it up toward her. He silently looked up at her, confused, as her bony finger traced over the red bumps peppering his face. "What are these, boy?" She asked finally, still running her finger over his face.

"Them's just pussies, Miss Jane."

"What?" She frowned down at him, releasing her hold on his face.

"That's what me and Henry always used to call 'em." Will reached up and ran his own hand over the bumpy contours of his face. "They's real ugly and if you scratch at 'em enough, they pop right off and pus goes runnin' down your face." He glanced up at Miss Jane, who looked thoroughly appalled. "That's how come we call 'em pussies."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Absolutely _disgusting_. Nazareth!" She cried, summoning the aged butler from the next room over.

"Yas'm, Miss Jane?"

"Run and get my ointment bottle out of the medicine chest, quickly." She shooed him away with a feeble wave of her hand.

"Yas'm, Miss Jane." The wizened old Negro turned and made off in the direction of the stairs.

She stood there, still staring at him. "Five days…perhaps…just enough time to get rid of those…those…_awful _things," she mumbled thoughtfully.

"Miss Jane, ma'am, them pussies ain't doin' me no harm, God's truth." Will shook his head, shifting uneasily under her steady gaze.

Miss Jane's beady brown-black eyes narrowed. "Of course they're doing you harm, boy! Your countenance is horribly offensive! You are _not _going to Mrs. Layton's tea with your face covered in…" She gestured to the pimples.

"Pussies, ma'am?"

"Yes." She frowned. "And stop calling them that! Vulgar words are hurtful to a lady's ears."

"Sorry, ma'am."

Miss Jane walked a tight circle around him, eyeing him critically and shaking her head. "Your entire appearance is offensive." She stopped and pointed accusingly at his bare feet. "Have you no decent shoes?"

Will slowly nodded. "Yes'm. I got a pair of brogans my Ma done give me. I only wear 'em to church, though. They pinch my feet. It's better I don't wear 'em."

Miss Jane fished around in a small pocketbook by the mantle. "This won't do," she mumbled crossly. Pulling out a few silver half-dollars, she cupped them in her palm and held them out to Will. "Here. Take these."

Will stared wide-eyed at the money and shook his head. "No, Miss Jane. I can't…"

"Take them!" She forced the boy's hand open and pressed them into his palm. "Buy yourself a decent pair of shoes before you come here tomorrow."

"Yes'm. Thank you, Miss Jane." The boy looked down and reluctantly pocketed the coins.

At that moment, Nazareth returned, bearing a small dark bottle in his hands. Will stared at it a little uneasily. His qualms only intensified when the butler showed the bottle to his mistress and murmured, "Dis de one you wanted, Miss Jane? De smelly one?"

Mrs. Atkins nodded regally, seating herself in her favorite winged chair. "Yes."

Nazareth unscrewed the bottle and Will wrinkled his nose as the smell of rotten eggs permeated the air. The skinny black fingers scooped out a bright yellow goo and began applying it to Miss Jane's face.

Mrs. Atkins stilled him with one bony claw, seething in frustration. "Not me," she pointed over toward where Will was sitting. "Him."

"Yas'm. Ah's sorry, Mis' Jane." Nazareth turned and headed over toward Will.

"It isn't like you to make mistakes, Nazareth." Mrs. Atkins pulled out a clean cotton handkerchief and primly wiped away the yellow ointment. "You really must do better."

"Yas'm." The gray kinky head hovered over Will, the yellow ointment ready on his fingers. Will squirmed and turned his head away, but the old man's other hand caught it and held it still. The unbearably putrid smell filled his nostrils as Nazareth slathered the cream over his pimply nose, cheeks and chin. The nasty odor brought tears to his eyes. He shut them quickly. "Miss Jane, ma'am," he gasped, "what is this?"

"Sulfur. Tuck your hair out of your eyes so he can cover your forehead."

Will tried futilely a couple of times to push the resilient pale-pink strands out of his eyes. "They won't stay."

Mrs. Atkins sighed. "Then hold them out of the way for him, if you will."

"Yes'm." He pushed them up off of his forehead and held his hand there, allowing Nazareth to apply the stinking goo to the entire width of his broad forehead. He was still gasping for breath, his face covered in the pale yellow ointment, by the time Nazareth moved away, his job finished.

"That's better." Mrs. Atkins nodded curtly from where she still sat in her chair. "Don't look in any mirrors, though. I'm afraid you'll fracture them."

"Miss Jane…Miss Jane, what…does this do?" He breathed, the stench still too overwhelming for normal respiration.

She drummed her bony hand impatiently on the arm of her chair. "With any luck and regular treatments, it will dry out and clear up those…_nasty_ lumps on your face."

Will nodded. He was still holding his hair up out of his eyes with one hand. "How…how long does it got to stay on?"

"I don't know." Mrs. Atkins shook her head. "A couple of hours, at least." She looked at him sharply. "Why? Does it bother you?"

Will shook his head. "No'm, I's just wonderin' how I can write with this on."

"Tosh," Miss Jane flapped her wrist limply from where it hung over the arm of her chair. "Don't worry about that for now. Just sit there until I tell you to go wash it off."

Shrugging, Will leaned back in the chair by her desk and closed his eyes, one hand still holding his hair back out of his face. It didn't take long for the boy, tired from his late hours in the fields, to drift into a quiet, nap-like stupor.

Several minutes passed. Neither Will nor Miss Jane said a word. Nazareth could be faintly heard making noises in the drawing room. It was Miss Jane who finally broke the silence.

"Boy…"

"Yes'm?"

"I believe you mentioned a girl once. A sister."

"Yes'm. I got a sister."

Miss Jane leaned forward. "Tell me about her."

A bemused look creased Will's cream-slathered forehead. "There ain't that much to tell about Mary. That's her name, Mary."

"Quite young?"

"No'm, she's thirteen years old."

"But you called her a baby." Miss Jane said, a statement of fact.

"Yes'm, she's my baby sister. She's always been my baby sister."

"Pardon. I misinterpreted." A smile briefly tugged at the corners of Miss Jane's mouth. It was gone in an instant. "What is she like?"

"Mary?" Will shrugged, maintaining his posture. "She's just like any other girl, I reckon. She talks a lot, sometimes too much. She plays lots of games. It's hard keepin' her attention. Wears her emotions on her sleeve."

Miss Jane nodded, her eyes sparkling merrily. "Are you sure she's your sister?"

"Yes'm, she is. Looks just like me, pore thing," Will murmured flatly.

"I see." Miss Jane was watching him closely, but the boy's face was passively blank. She wondered how he could speak of someone so close to him so distantly, so unemotionally. "Not very many gentleman callers?"

"She ain't been treated right, if that's what you mean."

Miss Jane shifted uncomfortably, taken aback. "And what does she do to occupy her time?"

"Keep the house straight. Hide from her daddy, mostly. She likes to come in her free time down to the ol' tack and feed store here in town."

"To buy things or to look?"

"To talk, mainly."

"Oh!" Comprehension dawned on the woman's pallid, wrinkled countenance. She gazed curiously at the cryptic, yellow-faced boy. "She has a companion at the store?"

"Yes'm. Mr. Stephen Rodgers." For the first time, she thought she saw Will smile. "He's sweet on Mary."

"How quaint." Miss Jane said primly. "Does he own the store?"

"No'm, he sweeps the floor there."

"What an _aspiring _occupation for a young caller," Miss Jane remarked dryly.

"Stephen ain't young. He's nigh on thirty years old. He's a nice ol' man. I like him plenty."

"Is that impression simply gathered from seeing him in passing?"

"No'm, I know Stephen Rodgers better'n that. And he's a fine man, Stephen is. I wouldn't like him bein' around Mary so much if he warn't."

Miss Jane nodded sagely. "And you are content to let your poor, homely sister marry a store sweeper." It was so horribly, typically Cracker of them. Their ways just didn't make sense to her sophisticated mind, yet they still managed to survive and give a whole other generation a still more miserable existence.

"No'm, Stephen ain't gonna sweep the tack and feed place the rest of his life. He's fixin' to be one of them pioneers what settles in Texas."

"A _pioneer?"_

Will nodded, his eyes still closed, one hand still holding his hair back. "Yes'm. In Texas, they got no fences and no homes and no traditions and no old families. And they got injuns and oil. A nobody like Stephen can get to be somebody out there in Texas."

"What will your sister do when he leaves?"

"He ain't gonna leave her. Told me he'd like to take her with him, make her his wife."

Miss Jane stared at the implacable boy incredulously. "And you _approve _of this?"

Will nodded again. "I want her to leave, ma'am. I want her to get as far away from Georgia as she can get, and never come back here again. Ever."

"What a strange thing for a brother to say!"

"It's true, though." Will tentatively opened his eyes and looked at her. "I was born a pore farmer, Miss Jane, and I'll always be a pore farmer. But Mary, she deserves somethin' better than the mess we got here. I want her to go to Texas with Stephen and start her life all over. And I hope she never sees me again."

* * *

Will paused and looked down at his strangely silent daughter. "What's wrong, baby? You ain't sayin' much."

Jane blinked, a little drowsily. "I'm listenin'. Like a proper girl."

"My Calamity Jane, a proper girl?" Will chuckled and shook his head at her.

The muddy child frowned and crossed her arms. "Well, I am!"

"It's all right, baby. I ain't laughin' at you." He murmured calmly, gently putting his arms around her. "You're really listenin' to the story."

Jane nodded. "An' I got a question. How come you never said nothing before 'bout havin' a baby sister?"

Will's smile faded. "Because that's all in the past. It don't matter much now anymore."

"Did she go to Texas, like you said?"

He nodded. "She's got children of her own, now, too. Cousins of yours. They're all older'n you. You wouldn't know 'em."

Jane thought, slowly turning things over in her mind. "So…is she one of my aunties? Like Auntie Scarlett?"

Will nodded. "Yup. Just like Auntie Scarlett."

"Daddy…Mama an' Auntie Scarlett are sisters, ain't they? Like…like Auntie Mary is yours?"

"Yeah," Will nodded again, a puzzled look on his face. "I ain't followin' you, Jane."

"Well…is the reason you an' Auntie Mary don't talk much…cause you don't like each other? Like Mama an' Auntie Scarlett?"

Will smiled. "No, baby. Me and Auntie Mary live a long way apart, we both got our own passel of children to raise, and we both got homesteads that need taken care of. We write whenever we can, but it ain't very frequent. But I love your Auntie Mary. I always have. And I'm happy for the life she has with your Uncle Stephen."

"Oh. Daddy…why do Mama an' Auntie Scarlett hate each other?"

A weary look crossed Will's face. He blew a gentle sigh and leaned back against the pomegranate trunk. "That, baby, is something I ain't never been able to understand." He looked down, his clear blue eyes meeting hers. "Don't ever behave to your sisters and brother that way, Jane. Someday, they're goin' to be all you got left. And you're goin' to wish you was nicer to 'em."

Jane squirmed uneasily, looking down and picking at her torn, stained skirt. "But…But Daddy, they ain't nicer to _me." _

"That might be so. But the reason they ain't can't be entirely their fault, now, can it?" He gave her a knowing look.

"Yes, Daddy," she murmured quietly. As much as she didn't want to admit it, being a noosen wasn't entirely out of her control.

Will turned away from her and looked back across the orchard. "Now, to get back to my story…"

"Daddy…"

"Yes, Jane?" He looked back down at her and held her close.

"You talk too much."

Will laughed softly, his water-washed blue eyes sparkling merrily. "How come you say that?"

"You been tellin' me all this stuff, an' I still don't know why. What is the point to this story, anyhow?"

"I'm tryin' to tell you. You'll know soon enough. A proper girl knows how to be patient, don't she?" He smiled down at Jane, who scowled back huffily. "Now, if my memory serves me right, there was something funny that happened on my way to Miss Jane's that next Tuesday that opened up a whole can of worms. I didn't know it at the time. To me, it was downright ordinary. But it didn't turn out ordinary at all…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Will was crossing the market street, which was busy on an early, sunny Tuesday morning, making his punctual way to Miss Jane's mansion-like abode. He strode along, ignorant of the low buzz of commotion farther down the street. If he hadn't nearly collided with a newsboy barking up customers, he probably would have missed the event entirely. As it was, he turned his head to gaze down the street. A Negro boy was playing in the middle of the cobbled walk, heedless of the distant, panicked cries of "loose horse!" from behind him.

Sure enough, a gray gelding pulling a buckboard filled with peaches was galloping headlong down the street, eyes wide with fright and coat foam-flecked with sweat. People darted out of the way like the parting of the Red Sea, screaming, while others futilely chased the careening wagon.

Will didn't pause to think. He instinctively ran down the street toward the little boy, who now stood frozen with fright in the face of the oncoming horse. Breathlessly, he tackled the child and shoved him out of the way, just as the gelding galloped past.

The two landed in a heap on the cobblestones, panting and clinging to each other. Will, who'd slammed his nose into the pavement, could feel blood trickling out of his nostril. He glanced down at the child. Aside from a few abrasions on his arms, he appeared to be physically unharmed.

Regaining his composure, he awkwardly clamored to stand, pulling the Negro boy to his feet. "Did you hear them other people screamin'? You could've got yourself kilt. Them streets is dangerous. You need to learn to pay attention to things like that," he grunted brusquely.

The boy cocked his head, looking mutely up at Will. When the older boy paused to take a better look at him, he cursed and turned away.

Will walked a few paces, turning in a slow, bewildered circle. "Oh, God." He clutched his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Out of all the boys to be playing on the street, it had to be this one.

He was a young child, perhaps only six or seven years of age. He was clad in a dirty cotton shirt that fell over his too-short makeshift trousers. He was barefoot and thin, very, very thin. But Will had misjudged him from a distance. The boy had kinky black hair and creamy brown skin. But there was no mistaking the gangling arms, bony shoulders, sunken face and bright, clear blue eyes. The child was no Negro. He was a mulatto. And one of his parents was unmistakably Will's own.

Blinking back tears, Will turned back to the boy and stooped down to stand eye-to-eye with him, his long arms folded on his bent knees. It had been a while since he'd run into one of his father's bastards, and the surprise had shocked him silly. "Where…where's your Ma?" He stammered.

The boy looked at him blankly, giving no indication of a response. But just as Will was about to ask him again, a bellowing, female voice slowly grew louder over the din of the market square.

"Isaiah? Isaiah!" A large, well-endowed black woman emerged from the middle of the crowd and moved swiftly over to where the little boy stood, pulling him to her calico skirts protectively. He knotted black hair was twisted up into a dirty cotton kerchief on top of her head. Her broad, flat features did not resemble her son's gaunt face in the least. Her dark, big-boned arms wrapped around the small boy, shielding him from the stranger. Her dark brown eyes gazed out warily, distrustful.

She took one look at Will and gasped. Her thick lips parted and her eyes widened in horror. She shied away from the tall boy, pulling her own behind her.

Will quickly swiped away the blood dripping from his nose and held up a hand appealingly. He understood the woman's apprehension. Though he was about a foot shorter, he was in most all respects the image of his father.

The woman didn't stop. Hurriedly, she turned around and pulled her son along into the swarm of people, bustling away from the frightful young man.

"Ma'am!" Will called out, stridently following the Negress.

She stopped short to avoid collision with a man carrying a sack of peanuts, giving Will ample time to catch up to her. He laid a hand on her strong arm, causing her to look up into his face with an expression of terror.

"It's all right, ma'am," he murmured flatly, digging around in his pockets. He could hardly stand to look at her. All of his father's conquests had that same appealing stare. He could close his eyes and see the same expression marring his own child-mother's face. It never failed to rouse his pity.

Finally, he pulled out the silver half-dollars Miss Jane had given him the other day. "Here," he said. Gently, he opened the woman's black paw and dropped the coins into it, curling her fingers up over them. "Buy him a nice meal." He nodded toward the small child cowering behind his mother's skirts.

Wordlessly, she nodded, tucking the money away in her dress. Tears welled up in her eyes as she reached up and laid her hand against the contours of his face. Will gazed back at her blankly. Then, just as quickly, she was gone, hurrying along the crowded paths with her little boy in tow.

* * *

"You are late." Mrs. Atkins said coldly, her voice tinged with disapproval.

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Will handed his straw hat to Nazareth and timidly stepped into the drawing room.

"And I thought I told you to go out and buy yourself some shoes. Why haven't you done it?" She glared at his dirty, blistered bare feet, her tone accusatory.

Will hung his head, but took care to hold her gaze. "I done give away that money you give me, ma'am."

"Given it away?" Mrs. Atkins frowned. "To whom?"

"A person, Miss Jane." Will remained standing where he was, but looked around for a novel or a primer of sorts. "May we start my lesson now, ma'am?"

She shook her head. "Yes, of course. Today, you'll be schooling in the dining room."

"But Miss Jane, you don't got to do that." Will shook his head. "I ain't…" he looked at the floor and screwed up his face. "I mean, _not _hungry."

Mrs. Atkins stood and gave him a haughty glance before moving away. "You stupid, simple-minded boy. At the very least, you're improving."

Silently, he followed her through the parlor and into the large, spacious dining hall. To his surprise, he found the long table pushed aside to one wall. In its place stood a smaller table, loaded with teacups and saucers and silver platters bearing sweets. In the middle sat a large, flowered china teapot. Six chairs were placed on either side, their places marked with dyed linen napkins.

Will saw the settings and stopped short. Miss Jane turned around, an exasperated frown in place. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know." Will slowly pointed. "Miss Jane…what is all that?"

Mrs. Atkins instead turned away, walking regally toward the table. "I thought it was time that I begin training you in the protocols of the specific social environment you'll be thrust into on Saturday."

"I thought folks just sat around and drank and talked." Will followed Mrs. Atkins' path, eying the table warily.

Mrs. Atkins stopped and frowned. "Does this look like a gather round the whiskey barrel?" She gestured to the table. "A society luncheon has rules to follow. Today, you're going to begin learning those rules." She stood next to one of the chairs and stared at him coldly.

Will shrugged and sat down in one of the chairs. "All right, Miss Jane." He looked around, then up at her. She still hadn't moved from her spot. "What do I do first?"

She narrowed her beady brown-black eyes at him. "_First, _you're going to get up and start all over."

"Pardon, Miss Jane," Will stood and looked solemnly back at her. "What did I do wrong?"

Mrs. Atkins could hardly contain her annoyance, her bony claws gripping the top of her chair in an angry vice. "Ladies are to have their seats offered to them by the men in their party."

Will looked down at the chair next to him, then back across at Miss Jane. "You mean you want my seat?"

Mrs. Atkins inclined her head and closed her eyes. "Come," she said simply. "Come and pull out my chair."

Shrugging, Will walked around the table and did as she ordered. Still stiff with displeasure, she sat down in the chair and nodded up at him. "Thank you."

"Miss Jane, ma'am…" Will whispered uncertainly.

"Yes, what?"

Will hunched down so he was level with the head of his patroness. "Them chairs ain't…_aren't _really that heavy. If you just take hold of both ends like this," he held his fists up demonstratively, "and give it one little tug, she'll just come clean out for you."

Mrs. Atkins turned and sneered at him in a mixture of wonder and contempt. "You _stupid _boy. Get up!" She shooed him away with a wave of her hand.

Will blankly stood and ambled back around the table. He made a move to seat himself, but his tutor stopped him with a sharp noise.

He quickly looked across at her. "Did I do somethin' wrong again?"

"This lady over here is waiting to take her seat." Mrs. Atkins gestured to the empty place to her left.

Will stared at the chair, looked around the room in case he had missed something, and finally turned back to meet Mrs. Atkins' gaze. "What lady?"

"This lady standing right over here!" She pointed, frowning in exasperation.

Will swallowed and gently leaned forward across the table. "Miss Jane, ma'am…" he said softly. "There ain't no lady there."

"Of course there isn't _really _one there!" Mrs. Atkins scowled. "For the sake of your lesson, however, we are going to imagine there is. Please do not keep the poor girl waiting any longer."

Will stared into the beady brown-black eyes, silent for a moment. Finally, he turned and walked back around the table, pulling out the indicated seat from the table. He felt ridiculous, pulling out chairs for people who weren't really there.

He straightened and looked at her blankly. "Are there others?"

Miss Jane paused to consider, looking around the settings. Finally, she pointed to the seat across the table and to her right. "There's one waiting for a gentleman's assistance over there."

He walked around and pulled that chair out as well. When he was done, he mutely looked at Mrs. Atkins.

She swept her gaze one final time around the table. "All the ladies have been seated." She nodded to the chair across from her. _"Now _you may take your seat."

"Thank you kindly, Miss Jane." He murmured, sitting down across from her and placing the napkin in his lap. He looked down at the empty plate and silverware laid out before him. "Lookit here, Miss Jane." Will picked up two of the utensils and gazed at them in bemusement. "Nazareth set my place wrong. He done give me two forks."

Mrs. Atkins closed her eyes and sighed. "I see this is going to be harder than I originally thought." She opened them again and dropped her napkin on her plate. "We are going to jump forward in our lesson. I'm finished."

Will looked up. "But Miss Jane, we haven't eaten anything yet."

"It doesn't matter whether or not you are finished. When your hostess is finished, so are you." She gestured to her plate, indicating he do the same with his napkin.

Will shrugged and placed the cloth onto the middle of his plate. He stared at it for a moment, then looked back across at her. She gazed at him expectantly. Will raised his elbows up even with the edge of the table, considered it, then slowly lowered them again. He picked at the crescent of dirt underneath his thumbnail. Mrs. Atkins continued to stare at him. Finally, Will raised his head and broke the silence. "Miss Jane, ma'am…what are we doing?"

"We are getting up to leave the table." She readily replied.

"Oh…does that mean I can stand up now?"

She gestured with her hand. "By all means, do."

Nodding, Will got up and began to make his way back out toward the parlor. He paused after a few steps, however, when he realized the old woman hadn't moved from her spot. He turned around and blankly looked at her. "Ain-_aren't _you coming, ma'am?"

"I will as soon as I'm able to."

Will's shoulders sagged. "You want me to pull your chair out again?"

Mrs. Atkins' prim smile was all the answer he needed. Resignedly, Will walked around and did as she wanted. As she stood, he even walked around and pulled out the seats for the two invisible ladies without being asked. He looked back at his patroness, and saw the beady brown-black eyes brimming with approval.

"Come along," Mrs. Atkins beckoned, marching into the next room. "You have much to learn in social etiquette."

Will followed and stopped behind her in the middle of the parlor room floor. "Look," she gestured to the wide array of chairs and settees. "So many guests are here already. Nearly all the seats are gone." She turned and pointed to a corner of a small sofa with elegant mahogany legs and chintz upholstery. "There's one seat left right there. What shall you do?"

Will walked over to the indicated spot, looked at it. He sensed a trick in the question. Finally, he looked back at her and gestured to the spot. "I think I ought to give it to you, ma'am."

"Good boy," she said succinctly, taking the proffered seat. She looked at him and patted the cushion next to her. "Someone just got up. Sit down."

Will did as he was told, carefully sitting up straight so his back didn't touch the back of the sofa.

"I think I will get up now," Mrs. Atkins said suddenly, standing. Will remained where he was and looked up at her emotionlessly.

Mrs. Atkins closed her eyes. "And just when I thought you were doing so well," she murmured. "Stand up!"

Will hopped up off of the seat like a soldier snapping to attention.

"You will stand whenever a lady enters or leaves the room." She said coldly. "It is a sign of your reverence and respect for her as a lady. If she acknowledges your presence, you bow to her."

Will considered for a moment, then turned toward her and kneeled on the carpet.

"Not that low!" Mrs. Atkins spat in annoyance. She shook her head as she watched the young man clumsily right himself. There were only three days, three lessons left. Never had a pupil seemed so impossibly hopeless.

* * *

On Wednesday morning, Will again made his way toward Miss Jane's house for his lesson. She had filled his head with so many rules the other day that his mind was still reeling. He carefully stepped, barefooted again, along the path, silently dreading what she had in store for him today.

He turned around to look over his shoulder. "Come on, Mary," he called.

His younger sister bounded back up to his side, her blue eyes bright with verve beneath her neatly laced bonnet. She fairly skipped alongside him, swishing her patterned gingham skirts excitedly. She'd convinced her brother to let her come along into town with him this morning, on the condition she stay in the tack and feed store while he visited Miss Jane. She looked forward to her meeting with Stephen again.

Will suddenly stopped short, causing Mary to bump up against him. "Billy, what's wrong?" She asked.

He didn't answer her, just stared across the way at a small clearing partially obscured by a merchant's cart. He could see the Everett brothers, who he would be competing against in the toad-catching contest on Saturday. All three of them, Hugh, Tommy and Clay, stood grouped together, jeering at a small, frightened Negro child. The youngest, Clay, shoved the boy around, laughing and cackling at the kid's expense. Tommy was hurling insults when Hugh began hitting the boy harder. The child had turned his face for a moment, which is what had given Will pause. The boy the brothers were picking on was none other than the one he'd rescued in the street only the day before.

Will reached around and roughly pushed his sister in the direction of the feed store's front porch. "Go along inside, Mary. I'll see you in a while."

Mary knew better than to protest against her brother. Mutely, she did as she was told, slipping inside the door and rushing to the counter.

In the meantime, Will was already crossing the street, making his way determinedly toward the brothers. His fists clenched and unclenched themselves from where he held them firmly at his sides. His face, as ever, was unreadable, save for a fierce glow in his clear blue eyes. As he approached the gathering, he could hear what Tommy Everett was saying:

"Look at that nigger's eyes roll around! A yellow nigger! Hey, you black baboon! Shine my brother's shoes for 'im!"

Will watched, his step quickening, as Clay slipped off his brogans and threw them, one at a time, at the boy. Isaiah stood crouched behind the merchant wagon's wheel, trying to evade blows and slaps from the huge, imposing elder brother. Hugh made a grab for the boy's foot and dragged him out into the open. He raised his foot, ready to kick the child, when Will grabbed him forcibly by the shoulder and spun him around.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hugh growled as he struggled to stay on his feet.

"I could ask you the same thing," Will said evenly.

Hugh shook his large head and actually smiled in recognition. "Oh, hey, Will. We's just havin' some fun, is all."

Will crossed his arms, his expression stony. "Sure don't look that way to me."

"Come on, what else are we gonna do?" Tommy threw his hands wide, grinning sheepishly. "Practice for the contest? We already done that, and we was gonna win it anyway!"

Clay spat, turning his small, ruddy face up toward Will's. "You's sayin' we shouldn't handle this trashy nigger?"

"No," Will shook his head, his gaze evenly trained on Hugh. "I'm sayin' your brother oughta pick on someone his own size."

Hugh frowned. "When did you get so uppity?" He shoved Will back by the shoulders. "Them's just niggers to you, too."

"It ain't right to hurt children," Will murmured quietly.

"Not when they's niggers," Hugh retorted, shoving him again.

"What's it matter to you, anyway?" Clay snarled.

"Yeah, it's just some puny nigger kid! Why do you care so much?" Tommy called.

"Because he's my brother." Will said, so quietly it was nearly a whisper.

Hugh frowned and cocked his ear. "Say it again?"

"He's my brother." He repeated emotionlessly.

"Did I hear right?" Hugh asked, astonished. "Did you just say you're his brother?"

"Yes," Will breathed. Mere inches separated his face from Hugh's.

Hugh nodded calmly. Then, in a sudden burst of fury, he grabbed hold of Will and punched him in the gut. "You nigger-lovin' half-breed!" He cried, moving to stand over Will as the tall boy hit the ground.

Will hardly waited to catch his breath before standing up again, delivering Hugh a clean sock in the jaw. Toothpick-thin compared to Hugh's hulking frame, he didn't look as if he was nearly as strong as the other boy, but he could hold his own in a brawl against the muscular bully.

From there erupted a tirade of blows traded back and forth, neither weak enough to be effectively harmed by the other. They wrestled and pounded on one another, each trying to gain the upper hand.

Hugh had Will pinned to the ground when Will kneed the boy squarely in the crotch. The move so immobilized Hugh that Will was able to flip him over and reverse places with his opponent. Hugh was still curled up underneath him, squirming in pain. Will looked up and made a move to stand when a blow to his ribs knocked the breath out of him. He collapsed onto Hugh, helpless to ward off Tommy and Clay. Will could handle each of the brothers on their own. He was no match for all three.

Tommy hauled the lanky boy up and dragged him over to a mud puddle on the corner of the walk, Clay still kicking at him all the while. He laughed as he roughly threw Will down into the muck. "Now you look natural!"

No sooner had Will made an effort to raise himself up than Clay was on his back, pinning him back down. He grabbed Will's head and shoved it facedown into the mud. He held it there, laughing. "Look at 'im squirm!"

Will squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to lift himself up. But Tommy grabbed hold of his right arm and held him down. He forced the panic rising within him down. If he didn't act soon, he feared he would drown. He stilled himself for a moment, then with one swift motion, reached up with his left hand and yanked on Clay's dirty yellow hair.

The boy screeched and released his hold, allowing Will to haul himself up and give Tommy a blow to the back of the head. He stood as the two nursed their injuries, ready to walk away from the fight. No sooner had he climbed to his feet than he was faced once again with Hugh's gigantic form. Before he could react, Hugh delivered a punch to his right eye that sent him reeling back down into the puddle.

The world rapidly changed colors to vibrant shades of yellow, red, blue, and purple before going black completely. He was vaguely aware of voices and the feel of spit hitting his cheek. He felt one more kick to his arm and side before all was still.

Will lay in the dank water, struggling to breathe. He could feel his face begin to throb. Tentatively, he opened his left eye to find the Everett boys gone and the questioning face of Isaiah looking down at him.

He smiled and slowly raised himself up, clutching his sore arm. "Better me than you," he murmured, squinting through his one eye. The right was swollen shut entirely. His overhalls were torn, and the left strap hung down dejectedly over his soaked shirt. It hurt to breathe. The mulatto child stood quietly and stared up at the ragged boy. Will shrugged and nodded toward the tack and feed store's front porch. "Come on. I want you to meet somebody."

* * *

No sooner had they shuffled through the feed store's front porch than they were greeted with a shrill scream.

"Billy!" Mary darted to her brother's side. She tentatively reached up to touch his eye. "What happened to you? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." He murmured, gently brushing her hand away.

Mary's face fell. "You're lying. Stephen!" She cried, craning her head around in the direction of the storage room.

Stephen Rodgers, stocky and broad-shouldered, with thick black hair, a hawkish nose and kindly eyes, strode out worriedly, wiping his large hands on his canvas apron. "Good God, Will!" He cried, stopping short when he caught sight of the young man.

Will lifted a hand and nodded in greeting. "Stephen."

Mary spun around and approached him, wringing her hands desperately. "Stephen, please. He's hurt badly. Run and get some camphor out of the back, quickly."

Stephen curtly nodded and hurried around behind the store's large oak counter.

Mary paced a small circle, distress evident in her sallow, sunken face. "Oh, Billy…where else…what could…_who _could have done such a thing?"

Will firmly took hold of her arm and led her up to one of the stools in front of the counter. "Sit down." He said emotionlessly. Still softly making noises, she did as he said. "Now breathe deep and calm yourself down. There isn't no need for you to get yourself so worked up."

Mary gave him an odd glance before she closed her eyes and took a couple of noisy breaths.

Will kneeled down, careful to keep any hint of how much the move pained him out of his expression. Still holding her arm, he looked up at her and shook it gently. "You better now?"

She nodded.

"I brought someone here to meet you. With the way you been carryin' on, you probably scared him to pieces. Would you like to meet him now?"

Mary opened her eyes and tried to smile. "Of course. I'd love to meet your friend, Billy."

Will turned his head to motion to Isaiah, who'd hidden behind a rack of saddlery. But just as the boy took a few tentative steps forward, Stephen reappeared with a jar of camphor.

"Oh, good!" Mary cried, reaching out for Stephen to hand it to her. "Billy, sit here across from me and lift your head toward the light for me, please."

Will breathed a noiseless sigh and sat down on the stool next to her, sitting quietly while she applied the balm to his eye.

"That's some shiner you've got, Will." Stephen nodded.

"Thanks," he murmured.

"Tell me, does it hurt?" Mary asked, rubbing the tender area with her fingers.

"Yes, it hurts very much." Will replied blankly.

"You sure don't act like it does," Stephen commented from the other side of the counter.

Will shrugged. "What good would it do me?"

"I'm used to him, Stephen." Mary smiled at her beau. "He's silly, my brother Billy."

Stephen came around from behind the counter and inspected the swollen eye. "It's already startin' to change colors," he murmured, pointing to different spots above and below it. "It oughta look mighty purdy by tomorrow."

Will smiled. "I can hardly wait."

"Billy! Stephen!" Mary gaped incredulously at the two men. "I don't think this is funny at all!"

Will and Stephen turned and looked at her so seriously that she eventually burst out giggling. "Oh, all right, you win!" She cried, screwing the lid back on the jar and sliding it across the counter.

Will glanced over his shoulder, then turned back to his sister. "Mary, I've got to go. Miss Jane isn't going to be none too happy with me, as it is. Would you keep my friend company while I'm gone?"

Mary excitedly clapped her hands. "Oh, your friend! Where is he?"

Will slowly got down from the seat and gestured for her to follow. "Come on, I'll show you."

Mary, with Stephen in tow, quietly turned and watched as Will disappeared behind the feed barrels and emerged leading a small mulatto boy by the hand. "This here is Isaiah."

Mary gasped and looked into her brother's face. He solemnly nodded. Smiling as ever, she turned to the boy. "Hello, Isaiah. I'm Mary."

"I hate to be a bother, but you think you can look after him here in the store for a couple of hours?" Will asked, addressing Stephen.

The older man nodded. "Of course."

Will looked back down at Isaiah to discover that Mary was already leading the little boy around the store, pointing to things and murmuring excitedly. He met Stephen's gaze once more as he turned toward the door. "Don't let him wander around outside."

* * *

"Miss Jane, ma'am," Will called tentatively, making his way through the drawing room. "I'm sorry I'm so late today." He paused and moved through the doorway into the parlor. "I hope…"

He jumped at the loud exclamation and looked to see Miss Jane slumped over the arm of her winged chair, swooning. Nazareth hurried past him, uncorking a bottle of smelling salts to revive his mistress. Wordlessly, Will helped carry the woman over to the divan and lay her flat. Then he stood back and watched while the Negro butler tried to bring her back around.

Miss Jane moaned softly, her folded eyelids fluttering from time to time. Her bony hands lay clasped together over her chest. For a few minutes, Will feared she was dying.

She seemed to recover, but each time she did so, something sent her back into a swooning fit. She carried on in this fashion for a quarter of an hour before she looked to be sufficiently recovered from the shock.

The first thing she did as she raised herself up off the divan was fix her now cognizant black eyes on Will and frown severely. "How _dare _you come before me in such a state!"

Will met her gaze blankly. "Pardon, ma'am?"

She gestured frantically with one bony claw. "What…what in the name of heaven and earth caused you to look like that?"

"Oh, right." Will looked down at his damp, torn overhalls. "Well, ma'am, I don't rightly know what, but it came as a fault of mine. I'm real sorry, ma'am, if I offended you."

"Your eye!" She cried and looked away. "What in the world can be done with _that?"_

Will shrugged. "It's all right, ma'am. I already got some camphor balm on it. I reckon it'll be gone in a week or so."

"A _week!" _Mrs. Atkins screeched, writhing in her seat. "Mrs. Layton's tea is in _three days!_"

Will sighed, feeling genuinely sorry for the old woman. "I wish I knew what to do, Miss Jane," he murmured softly.

Mrs. Atkins covered her wrinkled face with her palm and made a shooing motion in his direction. "I cannot bear this. You are hopeless…" Suddenly, she sat up, the light returned to her eyes. "Never matter, it shall all be fine." She turned to Will. "On Saturday, you will show up here two hours earlier, at five o'clock."

Will's eyes widened, thinking of the last-minute practice he'd promised Henry. "But Miss Jane, I…"

"And not a moment late. Do you understand?"

Will swallowed and nodded. "Yes'm, Miss Jane."

Mrs. Atkins managed what might have been a smile under any circumstance. "That's better. Now, for today's lesson…" She stood and began moving toward the dining hall.

Will's shoulders slumped as he followed her for another round with the tea set.

* * *

"What did you learn that day?" Jane asked anxiously, shifting to find a more comfortable pose on her father's lap.

"Well…" Will paused and thought for a moment. "I learned not to tip your chair at the table, that a napkin ain't a suitable hankie, and you ain't supposed to make noises when you chew."

"But Daddy…" Jane grinned. "You do all of those things."

Will smiled. "Shows you just how well I learned my lesson, don't it?" He leaned forward, bumping his large nose against hers. "But you know what was the most important lesson I learned that day?"

Jane shook her head.

"I learned it ain't never acceptable for young gentlemen and ladies to walk around lookin' like ragamuffins."

Jane blushed and looked down at her ruined dress. "Oops."

Will nodded. "Oops."

"But…but Daddy, I don't understand." Jane gazed up at him, confused. "She was so mean to you. Why did you like her so much?"

Will gave her a long look. "Well, baby, I ain't finished tellin' the story yet. In fact, I was just about to get around to that. But first, there's that trouble with Henry and the toad-catchin' practice."

"I bet he warn't too happy about that." Jane said.

Will nodded. "I remember catchin' him out by our property fence the next afternoon when we was both pickin' cotton. Before I'd thought it out real good, I went right on ahead and told him that our practice was cancelled…"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"What do you mean it's cancelled?" Henry cried, throwing down his canvas sack and leaning against the creaky board fence, staring at the person he thought was his best friend incredulously.

Will breathed a noiseless sigh and hitched up his pants. As his overhalls were torn, he was forced to wear a pair of his father's pants instead. They were a tad too long and far too wide for his lanky frame. They were currently being held precariously in place with a piece of baling twine. He'd earlier shed his shirt to work in the Georgia heat, displaying a ribcage purpled with bruises. They matched his right eye, which had turned a deep purple-black tinged with green. He gazed across the fence at Henry, who, with his dark tan and unmarred physique (sans an old scar across his shoulder), looked far healthier than Will. "I'm sorry, I know I promised you, but…"

"You swore on our _friendship _that you were going to be there," Henry drawled disappointedly. "An' I trusted you. I didn't even make you sign in blood!"

"I can't help it, Henry." Will shook his head sadly. "I honestly tried, but there just isn't a way I can make it anymore."

Henry wrinkled his nose. Will sure had been talking strangely these past few days. "Ruddy an' me can't do this all on our own, Will! We need you if we's gonna make a decent team against the Everett brothers!"

Will winced slightly at the mention of the other team, but it went unnoticed. "I'll try to be at the contest in time, Henry, but you got to trust me. I know I been missin' all the practices, but I can't control it. If I could be there, I would."

Henry shrugged and kicked at the red clay by his feet. "Why even bother coming to the contest? Our team is doomed, anyway…"

Will's bony shoulders sagged. "Don't be like that, Henry."

"It's true, ain't it?" Henry cried, his brown eyes glaring wrathfully at the other boy. "What the hell's the matter with you, Will? I thought I could trust you! I thought you were my friend!"

Will swallowed. His throat felt as dry as a water trough in the middle of a drought. "I am your friend, Henry. It isn't that I'm betraying you. It's just that I got this…"

"Let me guess…some secret family duty again?"

"It isn't like that, Henry." Will replied evenly. "There's other people that's countin' on me to be somewhere else. I can't let them down."

"Why not?" Henry stared coldly at Will. "You've already let your friends down."

Before Will could manage a reply, Henry threw his sack back over his shoulder and trudged away through the rows of ripe cotton plants.

* * *

Will nodded gratefully to Cook as she silently placed a single scone on his plate. He was nearing the end of Friday's lesson, the last before Mrs. Layton's tea the following day. Miss Jane, who had yet to be served, stared appraisingly across the table. Will met her gaze evenly and didn't move a muscle.

She waited for Cook to serve her and disappear into the kitchen before picking up her fork. Her gray eyebrows lifted a hair as she found Will still hadn't moved. Slowly, she cut a small portion and lifted it toward her mouth. It was not until she'd begun chewing that Will finally followed suit.

Miss Jane swallowed and curtly nodded. "I see you learned from yesterday's mistake."

Will remained straight and tall in his seat, carefully measuring and cutting up his pastry. "Are these here pieces small enough, Miss Jane?"

Mrs. Atkins inspected his plate and nodded. "Just make sure you pace yourself accordingly. Look at the plates of the guests on either side of you and slow down if they have more left than you do."

Will smiled. "No one wants to look a hog, right, ma'am?" He asked as he took a small bite. He'd also discovered yesterday that devouring one's food in two bites was heavily frowned upon at the tea table.

Mrs. Atkins frowned. "I don't want to hear anything so vulgar come out of your mouth tomorrow. Do you understand?"

Will waited to swallow before replying, which appeased the old woman slightly. "Of course, Miss Jane."

Mrs. Atkins followed Will's eyes as they came to rest on his teacup. He sat there for a long moment, staring at it blankly. Finally, she spoke. "Well? Are you going to take a drink?"

"I'm thinking about it, ma'am." Will replied, his stony face belying his intense concentration. Slowly, shakily, he reached out and carefully pinched the handle between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and lifted it up, carefully leaving the saucer on the table. He raised the cup to his mouth and took a small sip, trying hard not to make a slurping nose (which was easier said than done). Then he wobbly returned the china cup to its place on the saucer.

Mrs. Atkins actually smiled. "Very good, boy. A little awkward, perhaps, but excellently done."

Will nodded appreciatively, dabbing his mouth with his napkin and resisting the urge to do the same to his nose. "Thank you kindly, ma'am."

He carefully kept pace with Mrs. Atkins throughout the remainder of the lesson, meticulously placing each of his serving utensils on his plate when Cook reappeared to take them.

Mrs. Atkins fairly gloated as he came around the table to pull out her seat for her. "You have retained your lessons well. I am satisfied."

Will returned the chair after she'd stood and followed her back out to the parlor. "Thank you, Miss Jane. I tried hard to please you, so…"

Mrs. Atkins stopped before her winged chair and gestured simply with her arms. "All that is left is the matter of your arriving here early tomorrow."

"Miss Jane, ma'am, if I could have a word about that," Will murmured uneasily.

"Yes?" Mrs. Atkins seated herself and gazed up at him expectantly.

"Well, ma'am…" Will shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, but he held her gaze. "I was wonderin'…would it be real terrible if I came maybe at my normal time instead?"

Mrs. Atkins frowned. "Whatever for?"

"You see, ma'am, I got this here problem." Will held his hands out and stilled himself, taking a deep breath to expel his troubles. "I promised my best friend that I'd do this toad catchin' contest with him and another boy, and it's set for tomorrow afternoon. Now, I always figured if I hurried, I could be at both your tea party and the contest. But I promised him, long before I promised to do this, that I would make time for practices. And because of my lessons, I haven't been to a single one. I promised to be there for one last practice early tomorrow mornin', but I can't now seein' as you got your heart set on me comin' so early."

Mrs. Atkins nodded curtly. "And?"

"And…" Will slowly tucked his hands behind his back. "I was wonderin' maybe if you could let me come here later so I could go to the toad catchin' practice instead."

Mrs. Atkins sneered disgustedly and shrank back, as if insulted. "_Toad catching _practice? Absolutely not!"

Will bit his lip. "But ma'am, I got to go. I can't go around breakin' my promises, especially not to a good friend like him! I couldn't ever look him square in the eye again if I didn't follow through on what I said I was goin' to do."

"You'll simply have to deal with that," Mrs. Atkins inclined her head and turned away. "I have several important people set to meet with you at the appointed time already. I have gone to a severe amount of trouble to arrange these house calls specifically for you. I absolutely _cannot _ask them to cancel now." She turned and glared at him. "Besides, toad catching is a disgusting habit. Is that really all you and your friends can do for fun?"

Will, his face pale, hesitantly backed up a step. "I'm…sorry I asked, ma'am. I won't trouble you no more, I'll…I'll be here tomorrow at five, like you said."

Mrs. Atkins nodded. "I should hope so, after all I've done for you." She waved a hand at him impatiently. "Now go."

"Yes'm. Goodbye, Miss Jane." Will continued to back his way toward the drawing room. "I'm sorry again…"

"I don't want to hear another word about it!" Mrs. Atkins reached over and tugged the bell pull to summon Nazareth. "Now leave. I have errands to run."

Will nodded. "Well, goodbye again, ma'am." He spun around and nearly ran into the Negro butler, who silently held his straw hat out for him. Will quietly took it and murmured his thanks before hurrying out through the mansion's front doors.

He closed the wrought iron gate behind him, still mulling the problem with Henry over in his mind. But, as it turned out, his trouble didn't end there. He heard a noise and looked farther down Miss Jane's street. The sight that greeted him made his stomach drop.

"Stop it!" Mary screeched, trying desperately to pull Tommy and Clay Everett away from little Isaiah, who cowered behind a rose bush. Her bonnet lay limply tied around her neck, stray strands of her pale-pinkish hair falling free of her hairnet. She clawed and scratched and pushed the smaller boys, but it seemed to be ineffective against the little demons.

Hugh roughly shoved her away and pinned her against the property's white clapboard fence. She screamed and he quickly placed a hand over her mouth. "Shut up, you no account white nigger trash!" He smiled and let his hand travel down her side. "We wouldn't want to stir up a whole lot of commotion, now, would we?"

Will, forgetting what the Everett brothers had done to him before, sprang like a bobcat and rushed up to where they were standing. He hurtled into Hugh with all of his might, knocking them both farther back against the fence.

He grabbed Hugh's massive paws and held them still, pinning the boy back so he was trapped. He coldly gazed into the bully's face. "Take your damned hands off my sister," he growled lowly.

"Will," Hugh grunted, his expression twisting into an ugly scowl. "Back for another beating, half-breed?"

"Look, Hugh," Will panted evenly, "this has gone far enough. I don't give a shit what you do to me. But you leave Mary and that boy alone."

Hugh relaxed into a smug grin. "Look, Will, we's just doin' you an' us a favor. We got no reason to be at each other's throats. All that would go away if we just string the stupid nigger up a tree like a little Christmas light. We'd be savin' your reputations a little." His expression darkened. "Ever'one would think you's just white trash instead of white nigger trash!"

"Like Hell you will." Will spat in the other boy's face.

Hugh frowned. "I'm gonna beat your ass so bad they won't be able to find the pieces til next Wednesday!"

Hugh pushed himself forward off the fence, sending Will tumbling backwards into the street. Mary screamed and made a move to run toward him, but Tommy grabbed her by the arm and held her back, cackling gleefully.

Hugh pounced on the felled boy, but Will was ready for him. They rolled together across the cobblestones, kicking and wrestling one another noisily.

A small squeak from the opposite direction caused Mary to turn her head away from the fight. She gasped as she saw Clay holding Isaiah up by one bony foot and a long rope in the other. "I got 'im! I got 'im! Look at 'im squirm!"

Mary stepped once in their direction before Tommy hauled her back. "Let him go!" She howled frantically. "Billy! Billy!" She called shrilly to the two young men rolling on the ground.

"Now, if you's gonna keep carryin' on like that, I's afraid I have to shut you up." Tommy drawled nastily, clapping a hand tightly over Mary's mouth.

Hugh grunted, trying to keep Will's arms immobilized as he struggled underneath him. He turned his head to the left and grinned. With a yell, he hauled his weight in that direction, rolling Will underneath him and pinning him against the edge of the gutter.

Will, though he could only see clearly out of one eye, effectively blocked Hugh's blows with his hands, thinking desperately about how to get out this situation. A growing sense of helplessness welled in the pit of his stomach. There was no escape. Perhaps thinking a little too hard, one of his blocks turned into a powerful punch that connected with Hugh's right eye.

Hugh turned his face away, stunned. Will tried to take the opportunity to wriggle out from underneath him, but it was too late. Hugh turned back around, growling in rage. He picked Will up and slammed him back against the pavement, making him fall hard on his left side. Will lay still, unconscious, his arm twisted up underneath him. A small pool of blood slowly grew in size around his head.

Hugh laughed and turned to Clay. "Now, let's have ourselves a lynchin'."

"Wait for me!" Tommy cried, roughly letting go of Mary and pulling out a toothpick while Hugh began knotting the rope.

"Billy!" Mary darted up to her brother and knelt over him, tentatively laying a hand on his back. "Billy, please," she sobbed. "Please get up. Please. They're going to kill him…" She shook his shoulder, growing panicked when it elicited no response. "Billy? Billy!"

The brothers chuckled darkly, bent over and holding their prey. Isaiah made struggling noises, frantically trying to wriggle out of their grasp. It only made them laugh harder. Hugh was just placing the noose around Isaiah's neck when a gunshot made him freeze in his tracks.

The three Everett boys and Mary slowly turned their heads to look down the street. Standing there at the edge of her drive was none other than Mrs. Jane Atkins, wild looking with the breeze tossing her gray hair and black skirts around her, holding a Mississippi rifle pointed toward the sky.

"You monsters stay right where you are!" She called, lowering the rifle and beginning the process of loading a new cartridge. "Don't anybody move, or this next shot is at you!"

The Everett boys could only watch in amazement as the frail old gentlewoman quickly and ably reloaded the weapon. Will, who was just beginning to regain consciousness, struggled to move. Mary helped pull his torso up off the ground as he clutched his sore arm. Blood dripped steadily from his ear onto the pavement. As the darkness receded and he saw Miss Jane holding the gun, he believed he was seeing hallucinations.

Tommy Everett uneasily looked around him before turning and darting off frantically down the street. Just as he did so, Miss Jane raised the newly loaded gun to her shoulder and fired. The shot cleanly blew away the toothpick sticking out between the boy's teeth. Tommy stopped dead in his tracks and didn't move.

Miss Jane shook her head and lowered the rifle to reload once more. "You stay right there, boy. I've given you all a fair warning. I promise this next shot is going to hurt somebody, so I'd suggest you do as I say."

The Everett boys gaped silently, rigid. Mary quaked in fear as she clung to her brother. Will shook his head and tried to focus his gaze in bewilderment. There was no possible way the Miss Jane he knew could be such an excellent shot.

In a matter of seconds, Mrs. Atkins finished loading the rifle. She lifted it up and gestured with it to Hugh. "You. Take that thing off the child's throat."

Hugh gulped and shakily lifted the noose from around Isaiah's neck. The boy, also scared silly by the fierce old woman, remained right where he stood below the tree.

Mrs. Atkins turned her attention to Clay. "Now let him go and walk three steps back."

Clay immediately did so and found himself standing under the tree's lowest branch.

Miss Jane nodded the rifle's muzzle again at Hugh. "Put it around your brother's neck."

Hugh, his eyes wide, slowly did as he was told. Clay squirmed uneasily.

Mrs. Atkins watched them over the cocked barrel of her gun and gave a curt nod, satisfied. "Now string him up in the tree."

Hugh gasped and dropped the end of the noose like it was lit afire. "But lady, I can't do that!"

Miss Jane narrowed her eyes at all three, but kept the rifle ready at her shoulder. "Then I'd suggest you go back to the dirty swamps you crawled out of and kindly leave these people alone. Now, get!"

Her wrinkled old face broke into a wide smile as she watched the three brothers turn and run, glancing over their shoulders at her raised weapon as they tore off as quickly as they possibly could.

Mary took the opportunity to dart over to Isaiah and hold him close. Will was left to clumsily rise to his feet, still gripping his left arm. Mrs. Atkins lowered her rifle and stately strode over to where he stood. Wordlessly, she reached out and dabbed at his bloody ear with a silken handkerchief.

Will, still feeling disoriented, looked up at his patroness unbelievingly. "Miss Jane, how…?"

Mrs. Atkins raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I failed to ever mention to you that Mister Atkins was a colonel in the Mexican War?"

He tentatively pointed to the rifle. "But…"

Miss Jane finally smiled at him. "I was a colonel's wife in the Mexican War."

Will broke into a wide grin.

A small noise from Isaiah caused Miss Jane to look over Will's shoulder at the huddled pair. She turned back to him questioningly.

"Um, Miss Jane…" Will gently took her arm and led her over to them. "This is my sister, Mary, and Isaiah. Mary, this is Miss Jane Atkins."

His sister stood and bobbed a curtsy. "Ma'am," she murmured, her eyes trained submissively on the ground.

Miss Jane nodded stonily, for once keeping her tongue in check. The plain little barefooted urchin bedecked in simple gingham skirts, her pale-pinkish hair swirling in a disheveled mess about her shoulders, was an even sorrier sight than her older brother. She could hardly fathom the ugly little girl before her having a thirty-year-old beau, let alone any beau at all.

"Look up at me, child." She said softly.

Mary slowly complied, her blue eyes wide and still brimming with fear. She silently held Miss Jane's gaze for a long moment.

Mrs. Atkins stared at her coldly, then finally spoke. "Your brother holds you highly in his regard, as do others." She paused as she saw color creep up into the girl's sallow cheeks. "That is enough, I suppose."

"Thank you, ma'am," Mary whispered and stepped aside as Miss Jane turned to Isaiah.

She glanced at him once and turned to Will, who nodded silently. Miss Jane glared back down at the small child, who reached out and clung to the hem of Mary's skirts. "What a _horrid _thing," the old woman murmured softly. She abruptly turned away. "Such creatures have no right to live."

"He can't help bein' what he is, Miss Jane." Will said blankly.

Mrs. Atkins gazed at him, her face revealing nothing. "You are something, boy."

"Thank you, ma'am," he replied quietly.

Traces of her earlier smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. Then she turned and walked slowly back up to her house, still carrying the lowered rifle at her side.

Mary and Isaiah moved up and took their places at the side of a bruised and bloodied Will, watching the old gentlewoman walk away.

"Billy," Mary whispered, softly laying a hand on his shoulder. "Who is she?"

"Miss Jane?" Will smiled. "She's the greatest lady I ever met."

* * *

Will paused and smiled down at his daughter, who was gazing up at him in rapture.

"Wow," Jane breathed. Her voice was filled with reverence. "An' you named me after _her?"_

Will nodded. "It suits you both, don't it?"

"Except for one thing." Jane looked down at her sorry appearance and thought back over the events of the entire day. "I make a lousy lady."

"Baby, I think you'll make a fine lady." Will hugged her gently. "You'd be right takin' if you want to be."

Jane brightened. "You think so?"

Will nodded. "I know so. My little Miss Jane is just as special and surprisin' as her namesake."

She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. "But what happened after that, Daddy? With the tea an' the contest an' everything?"

Will looked back across the orchard, a light twinkling brightly in his clear blue eyes. "Well, I'll tell you. Miss Jane and I were in for another lesson of a very different sort…"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Ruddy tripped over the creaky threshold in the dark and stumbled noisily. Henry frowned and gently smacked the boy upside the head. "Shhh, idiot!" He whispered urgently. Careful to stay quiet, the two crept in the early morning dark up to the pallet where Will lay sleeping.

"You sure this is such a good idea?" Ruddy murmured, producing a rope and handing it to Henry.

The dark-haired boy nodded. "I'm through puttin' up with Will's excuses. He's comin' to our practice this mornin', even if we gotta tie him up an' drag him there!"

Ruddy shook his head and watched as Henry placed Will's hands together in front of him and bound them tightly around the wrists. When he was finished, he nodded and the two boys quietly struggled to hoist Will up between them. Treading swiftly, they carried him out through his father's house and down the road to Ruddy's muddy pond.

Will moaned a couple of times and moved his head, which made Ruddy glance back anxiously at Henry. The boy frowned and encouraged him forward. "Come on, keep goin' 'fore he wakes up!"

They trotted up to the murky hole, for once not pausing to look at their pic – _treasure _that lay tucked under the cedar tree. They paused only to carefully lower themselves into the mud, not wanting to splash and wake up their hostage. Once they were standing out in the middle of the pond, still holding Will between them, Henry began to lower his feet. "Come on, come on, get him down and get the rope out."

Ruddy hastily handed Henry the other strands of rope and struggled to hold the tall boy upright while Henry crouched down and swiftly tied Will's left ankle to Ruddy's right. When he was finished, he straightened and held Will's shoulder. "All right, switch."

Ruddy pulled out the last rope and knelt down, this time securing Will's right ankle to Henry's left. When he was through, they were left with Will bound between them, his hands knotted together in front of him, his head tipped back in a deep snore.

Henry looked across at his teammate. "Ready to wake him up?"

Ruddy grinned his crooked smile and nodded.

They both let go of Will's shoulders and watched as his torso tipped forward and bowed headfirst into the mud.

The instant the cool, murky water hit his face, Will was snapped awake. He struggled to reach out with his arms and push himself up, but they flopped helplessly from where they hung together in front of him. He heard distant voices from somewhere above the surface. Nothing was visible save for water, silt and mud. He turned his head to the side and made a pathetic gurgling noise for help.

The two boys howled with laughter at his expense. Henry, laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes, finally reached down and helped pull Will back up.

Will shook his head, trying to clear the sludge out of his eyes. "What in the Sam Hell is goin' on?" He spluttered.

Henry tapped him casually on the shoulder. "Hey, Will. Remember us? Your toad-catchin' team you decided to let down?"

Will frowned, still groggy with sleep. "What?"

Ruddy tapped his other shoulder to get his attention, still grinning. "We's makin' you practice with us this time."

Will solemnly shook his head. "I can't. I told you. I got to be somewhere else."

He made a motion to walk away, but when his feet failed to move, he ended up dipping back down into the water again.

Henry and Ruddy burst out in a fresh round of laughter. "You ain't gettin' away so easy this time, Will!" Henry crowed. "We made good an' sure of that!"

They helped him back up. Will looked coldly from one to the other. "Y'all need to let me go, or I'm gonna be in a heap of trouble."

"I'll say. We's all gonna be in a heap of trouble if we do." Henry looked at his friend appealingly. "Come on, Will. You promised us this. Quit actin' sore an' catch some toads with us."

Will gazed down at his bound state. "That might be awful hard to do with my hands tied like this."

"Okay, here." Ruddy reached out to undo the knots, but Henry stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Oh, no, you don't." Henry glanced sharply at Will. "We ain't gonna make it so you can get away." He nodded before turning his attention to the water. "Let's just catch us some toads."

Ruddy shrugged and followed suit. Will looked up over the tree-lined enclosure and saw the sun just beginning to peek its first rays over the horizon. "I'm sorry, Miss Jane," he whispered quietly as he bent down and began running his hands through the water.

They were quiet for the next few minutes, making few noises as they concentrated on the task at hand. The water sloshed as they made furtive grabs at the slippery toads hiding beneath the surface. The boys became absorbed in their task, their work only broken up by the brief, "got one," when they were able to wrangle a toad out of the water.

Will had only caught a couple, his bound hands hindering more than helping him in his task. But as he flexed his wrists, he realized that the water was softening the ropes. They were far from falling away, but he possessed considerably more leverage than he had before.

He glanced at Ruddy, who was still trying really hard to catch a first. His eyes, as ever, were hidden underneath his rusty hair. Will surreptitiously began combing the water by where he was tied to Ruddy's foot. When he was sure the boy wasn't looking, he moved his hands a little more to the left and delicately began untying the ankle ropes beneath the surface.

He didn't pull the ropes away, but left them limply hanging around Ruddy's foot so the boy wouldn't feel the difference. "Got one," he murmured to himself before slowly working his way over to Henry's side.

"Not havin' much luck, Will?" Henry asked lightly as he saw his friend appear in the corner of his vision.

"Not really, I reckon." Will murmured, searching the water out in front of where his foot was bound to Henry's.

"It sure is a shame you couldn't come to more practices," his friend lamented snidely.

"Henry, I said I was sorry about that, but there isn't anything you or I can do to fix it." He paused and meandered a little farther down. "It was a scurvy trick to take me prisoner the way you did."

"What else could I do to make you come?" Henry retorted, reaching around behind him as he caught movement in the water. "You're stuck here now, so you've gotta practice."

Will nodded, dipping his hands farther underwater and gently loosening the knots. "Well, you never know, Henry. I reckon my luck's mighty liable to change."

"Hell, Will, you know I hate it when we fight. We's been best friends ever since we was little bitty boys. I don't want a stupid ol' disagreement like this to get in the way of that." Henry made a lunge and came back up with a squirming toad in his hands. "Got one."

Will raised himself up away from the water and looked Henry in the eye. "You know that my not bein' here for practices don't got nothing to do with how highly I hold our friendship. Right?"

Henry looked down and released his toad. "I guess so."

"And you know that I will be here with you and Ruddy in time for the toad catchin' contest later on today, no matter what else happens."

Henry nodded.

"Good." Will ducked his head and ran toward the opposite end of the pond, the loosened hobbles falling away.

"Hey!" Ruddy made a move to chase after him, but Henry held him back. The boy looked at his teammate appealingly. "But he's gettin' away!"

"Let him go." Henry watched as Will climbed the bank and awkwardly hurried down the dirt drive, his hands still bound together in front of him. "He'll be here when he's needed. He's got somethin' else to take care of first." He turned to Ruddy and grinned. "Besides, now that he's gone, we can stop practicin' and look at our treasure some more."

Ruddy smiled as both boys turned and darted toward the nearby cedar tree.

* * *

It was five-thirty when Miss Jane herself answered her door at the first knock. She stood in the middle of the doorway, glaring down at Will. He stood barefooted on the stoop, clad only in a long nightshirt that may have once been white. His pale-pinkish hair fell forward over his high forehead and stuck out in all directions. He was covered head to toe in greenish mud that steadily dripped onto the walk. The only decent purpose the mud seemed to serve was to partially obscure his purple eye. His arms stretched down in front of him, bound together at the wrists by a dingy-looking rope. Miss Jane saw all of this and inclined her head. "You look like an escaped convict."

"I'm sorry I'm late, Miss Jane…" Will managed to murmur before the old woman grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him inside.

"There's much to do in very little time." Will was immediately greeted by the sounds of frenzied activity the moment he stepped into the mansion. Soon after that, he was being handed off to Nazareth and guided up the stairs. Miss Jane had disappeared into the recesses of the chaos.

He reached the top of the staircase and treaded down a long, carpeted hallway, being prodded from behind by the Negro butler. He passed by large mahogany doors, alternated by oil paintings of people he assumed to be old Atkins family patriarchs. At the end of the hall hung a rather large portrait of a young, dark haired woman posing regally in a high-backed chair. Her low-cut, elegant midnight blue gown and luxuriant brown curls piled high on top of her head rendered her practically unrecognizable. But the thing that made Will stop and gaze up at her was the familiar well-bred sneer on her face.

"Miss Jane," he breathed incredulously.

"Yassah, dat Miss Jane frum lon' go. She wun't long mahy'd ter Mist' George w'en she had dat dun." Nazareth placed a hand on Will's shoulder and guided him into the room on the left.

"She was beautiful," Will murmured blankly. He'd never thought of Miss Jane as anything but the magnificent, old wrinkled woman she was now. He found it strange that he hadn't considered the attractive lady she must have been in her heyday.

The room Nazareth had led him to was a dark, simply decorated washroom. A ceramic basin stood in the center, filled with clean, cold water. Will gazed at it silently as Nazareth untied his hands and pulled the grimy nightshirt up over his head. He never bathed save for the occasional dip in the creek every month or so. He couldn't believe Miss Jane had arranged a bath just for him.

Nazareth gestured for him to get in the tub. Will tentatively did so and gasped as he sank down into the icy water. Before he could regain his breath, Nazareth, who'd shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves, appeared from behind and shoved him down so his head was completely submerged.

He came back up, coughing and shivering. The water mixed with the mud running down his face and forced his eyes closed. He could feel Nazareth pulling his head back and beginning to scrub him roughly with a bar of lye soap. All he could do was remain still and let Nazareth do his job. He'd never been so thoroughly cleaned in his entire life.

* * *

"Daddy…"

"Yes'm?" Will smiled at Jane, an amused light glowing in his eyes.

"About that paintin'. There's a big ol' one of you hangin' up in the dining room."

Will nodded.

"So, if you got one, how come you was so amazed to see one of the first Miss Jane?" She cocked her head questioningly.

Will laughed. "Well, baby, there was no way I would've thought back then that I'd ever have my portrait painted. That was something rich folks done."

"Oh." Jane nodded. "Was she the reason you got one painted of you?"

Will shook his head. "No, your Mama was the reason I got it done. She somehow dug up the feller what done your Grandpa Gerald's portrait an even longer time ago, and she all but forced me to have mine painted by the same man. I did it to please her more'n anything else. It still makes me uneasy to look at it. That's how come I sit in front of it at the table, so I don't have to see it."

"Daddy, that's silly." Jane smiled. "I think it's a nice paintin'."

Will squeezed her gently. "Thank you, darlin'."

"When did you have it done?"

"Let's see…" He paused and thought a moment. "I had my sittin' right around Christmastime in '76. You was still in diapers back then."

Jane smiled shyly. "Was I a cute baby?"

Will nodded, giving her a knowing look. "And just as much trouble as you are now."

Jane blushed and looked down.

"Now, see what you've done? You got me completely off track of my story." He waggled his finger at her.

"I'm sorry." She looked up, quickly getting over her bashfulness. "Can we skip ahead past your bath?"

Will laughed. "Now, that's silly. I thought it was a nice bath."

"It makes me uneasy." Jane squirmed and folded her hands on her lap.

Will smiled and shook his head. "Fair enough, I guess."

"So what happened after that?"

"Well, speakin' of uneasy, after I dried off, this other man came in and took all these different measures of my body. I warn't too sure what he was up to, because he hurried off mumblin' a bunch of numbers under his breath. I'd see him again later. Next thing that happened was Nazareth opened up a hidden staircase in what used to be Mister Atkins' old room and led me down into the basement…"

* * *

Will, clad in one of Nazareth's shirts, knew he'd entered the servants' quarters when he saw Cook, Cletus, and a young Negro maid scurrying in and out of the austerely adorned rooms that greeted him. Nazareth calmly led him past them and into a similar room he assumed to be the butler's own. The bed was neatly made and pushed back into a corner against the far wall. A small bureau stood alongside, providing the only other furniture save a mirror hanging from the opposite wall and a large chair set up in the middle of the room. A different black man, a tradesman, stood setting up tools from his leather bag on top of the bureau. He looked up and smiled when he saw the pair enter. "Dis de youn' gempmum Mis' Jane done tole me 'bout?"

Nazareth nodded and passed Will off to the tradesman as if he were a simple commodity. "You be quick. Mis' Jane in a hurry. Ah's gwine ter go see whut she need now." He turned and disappeared out the door.

The tradesman took Will by the hand and prompted him to climb up into the chair. No sooner had the boy seated himself than the man was draping a large sheet around his neck. Will shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair and glanced over at the tools the man was now reaching for. It was only then that he realized what the man's trade was.

"Well, youn' gempmum, Ah's Alber', an' ef you set nice an' steel fo' me, Ah's gwine ter get you out quick."

Will swallowed and sat rigidly upright while Albert the barber began swiftly cutting away his pale-pinkish hair.

He was positioned away from Nazareth's mirror, so he was unable to see what Albert was doing. All he could see was the growing number of shorn hair that fell onto the sheet and the floor. His stomach churned faster and faster until he felt he could not sit still any longer.

He took the opportunity to shift around in his uncomfortable seat while Albert walked around and began working from the front. A couple of minutes later, he stood back and surveyed the boy. Will breathed a long sigh through his nose as he watched Albert turn around and replace his scissors and comb on the bureau. But his relief was short-lived.

Albert turned back around, a straight razor and shaving cream at the ready. This made Will even more upset than the haircut had. He reluctantly sat quiet, his heart crying out in dismay, as Albert proceeded to shave off the few small hairs that were beginning to emerge on Will's chin.

_"But Daddy, that's silly," Jane murmured, tracing a finger under his chin. "You can grow 'em back fast. You get a real nice beard in the winter."_

_ "Well, baby, that's true…" When the weather turned cold every year, Suellen did allow him to stop shaving, under the conditions that he keep his beard close-trimmed and respectable-looking. "But back then, I was just startin' to get 'em for the first time. Beards don't grow in so fast when you're younger."_

_ "Oh." Jane nodded, puzzled. "But I still don't understand why you thought it was that horrible."_

_ "That's because you're a little lady. You ain't a man." Will smiled and gently stroked her head. "When you's a young man and growin' a beard ain't so easy, that stubble was proof of your manhood. And just like that," Will snapped his fingers, "my proof what took me two years to get was gone."_

_ Jane gazed up at him, her wide blue eyes still uncomprehending. Will sighed. "Don't worry about it, baby. All you need to understand is that it was painful for me."_

_ "Okay." She nodded dubiously._

To finish, Albert trimmed and manicured Will's fingernails. The boy watched, fascinated, as the barber left each one a perfect pink and white crescent. He held up the first hand and turned it over curiously as Albert continued working on the other. "This what they supposed to look like?"

Albert only flashed him an ivory-toothed grin in response.

Soon after, the barber whisked the sheet away and Nazareth reappeared in the doorway. He nodded curtly to Albert and pulled Will out of the chair. Silently, he led the boy down the hall and up a flight of stairs to the ground level of the house. They entered yet another dark bedroom, where the man who'd taken the measurements was waiting for them.

The door closed behind him. Will turned around and Nazareth was gone again. The tailor pulled him farther into the room and impatiently motioned for him to begin unbuttoning his borrowed shirt. "Cum now, Mis' Jane she git impashen!"

Will did as the man said and proceeded to put on more pieces of clothing than he even owned. He first donned a new shirt, then pants, then a waistcoat, and finally a frock coat. As he put on each article, the tailor made small adjustments so the garments fit Will's gangling frame perfectly. Never had Will worn clothes so nice or so new. He nodded appreciatively as the tailor offered him each piece of clothing.

As the man handed him a pair of pristine socks, Will looked up in astonishment. Sure enough, resting on a cedar chest at the foot of the bed sat a shiny new pair of leather boots. He gently reached out and brushed the smooth surface, fingering the thick laces. "For me?" He whispered softly.

The tailor nodded and gently pushed him into a chair. When Will sat, the man knelt down and laced the boots over the boy's newly stockinged feet. He moved away and Will bent over to admire the shoes. It seemed strange to look down and see something other than bare feet. They were the first pair he'd ever worn since his mother bought him church shoes so many, many years ago. But these shoes were different, made out of fine quality materials built to last a long time. And they didn't even pinch Will's feet. He was still absorbed in the boots when the tailor pulled him back to his feet for the last finishing touch.

The man pulled out a cravat and tied it around Will's neck, knotting it with a flourish. He brushed at a few flecks of lint and stepped away. When Will looked at him expectantly, he gestured to a mirror on the opposite wall.

Will tugged at the cravat, which he felt was choking him, and slowly stepped over to acquaint himself with his new image.

He bore little resemblance to the muddy, scraggly, hand-tied boy he'd walked in as. His sallow skin was scrubbed so clean it was nearly red, giving his normally sickly pallor a healthy glow. The pussies had disappeared from his face, thanks to Miss Jane's conscientious sulfur applications. His pale-pinkish hair had been cut quite short, with his bothersome stray strands parted to the right so they covered his still-purple eye. His dress was stately and impressive, the dark brown frock and waistcoat contrasting brilliantly with his fair complexion while the light blue cravat perfectly matched the bright depths of his eyes. He raised a hand from his side and quickly hid it behind his back. They looked so clean and perfect that they felt like they didn't belong to him. It was an unnerving sensation. So, he was now a gentleman. Will regarded himself emotionlessly and turned away.

As he did so, Nazareth reappeared at the door. "Mis' Jane lak ter see you now," he murmured, turning and showing the way instead of grabbing Will and leading him by the hand like a child. He obediently followed down a few corridors and emerged once again out by the staircase. Nazareth paused at the entrance to the drawing room and Will cautiously stepped inside.

Miss Jane stood waiting imperiously by her chair, her eyes immediately falling on Will as he walked in. She'd swapped her traditional mourning gown for a finer dress that had been dyed black after her husband's death. Her wide skirts billowed out in long ruffles around her hoops, swishing over a dark petticoat she wore underneath. The sleeves tapered away into thin triangles that looped over her bony fingers. The low, frilly-necked collar was considerably less severe than the high-necked ones she was accustomed to wearing. Its morbid color did nothing to hide the gaiety of the occasions the dress was created for. Her dark gray hair was a mass of elegant short curls. A pair of opal earrings and a round onyx brooch were the only jewelry she wore. Though she was as frail, bony, and wrinkled as ever, Will could see in her appearance a ghost of the beautiful young lady she once was.

Her piercing brown-black eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him as he walked through the door. He stood stiffly and waited for her to give him an order. She said nothing for a long while. Finally, inclining her head, she sneered, "well, at least you're tolerable."

Will remained where he was, unsure of what to do.

Mrs. Atkins turned her head away and offered up one of her bony claws. "You may kiss me."

Will obligingly walked over and gently took her hand in his own. He swept into a deep, reverent bow, brushing the top of her hand with his lips.

"Very good." Miss Jane curtly nodded her approval. "Now, shall we go? Tomlin has the carriage waiting out front."

Will silently nodded, too nervous for words. He offered his arm for the old woman to latch onto and slowly walked out the front door. They emerged into the bright morning sunlight, Will's stomach pitching and swelling like a stormy sea. All of what he knew and what he learned lay behind him, and only a dark, swirling abyss of the unknown remained.

* * *

"Daddy, why were you scared?" Jane murmured, tracing her muddy finger along her father's cheek.

Will shrugged. "Well, darlin', I was tryin' to be somethin' I warn't. And for a whole lot of important people."

"But the first Miss Jane knew that. She said you was goin' to be fine."

He smiled and hugged her gently. "But you see, me and Miss Jane were the only ones that were supposed to know that I really warn't no gentleman."

Jane lifted her head and tossed her muddy brown locks. "If it had been me, I would've been proud."

Will's heart swelled. His youngest daughter was most beautiful when she flaunted her spirit. "Now, why's that?"

"You was pore but you went to a rich folks' party. You was just as good as them. You should've been proud."

Will blankly shook his head. "It don't work that way, darlin'. I got my place. And it ain't with them. I didn't belong, but Miss Jane was tryin' to make like I was supposed to. And it scared me."

"But Daddy, you couldn't get scared. You never been scared." Jane shook her head. "You was in the War. The cannon took your leg off. Nothing makes you scared."

"Actually, a lot of things can make Daddy scared." Will gave her a knowing look. "A missing daughter what falls out of trees can make me the scaredest I ever been in my life."

Jane's eyes widened dolefully. "But…I thought you was mad at me."

"Baby, I was mad because I was so scared. Your Mama was so scared, too. If anything ever happened to you…that would be our worst nightmare." He squeezed the dirty little girl to his side. "We both love you too much."

Jane blushed and curled up against him. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she squeaked.

"It's all right now, darlin'." Will smiled. "Just don't never do it again."

Jane's heart broke. "How can I?" She sobbed. "Ever'thing I do is trouble!"

Her father heaved an imperceptible sigh and looked back across the orchard. "That's because you ain't seein' what I'm tryin' to tell you. Let me finish my story…"

* * *

Will clambered out of the carriage first and turned around, holding out his hand to assist Miss Jane in descending. The air around Mrs. Layton's expansive manor was brimming with stodginess – severe old dragons clad in their hoops and demurely shaded silks made their stately way up the steps and into the receiving hall on the arms of dashing young gentlemen. A few of the women hid beneath their parasols to gossip, gay as girls but careful not to let one childish giggle audibly escape past their gloved hands. Others sat and whispered behind their fans, frowning in annoyance at the silly old hags. Men helped the ladies into their seats, fetched them refreshment, or stood conversing with the other male guests. Many were festooned with fine brocades or magnificent sideburns. Others proudly bore gold watches or large rings, heirlooms becoming a man of a well-to-do family. They laughed heartily or grew agitated as they conversed on such things as politics, horses and dogs, each keeping one eye cocked on the hag that belonged to him all the while.

"Stay close and follow my lead," Mrs. Atkins murmured gruffly, tucking her arm through Will's. "We must stand in line to be received." She nodded toward the string of guests forming to one side of the front steps as they slowly walked forward.

Will craned his head around the lady shuffling in front of him to glimpse a woman even tinier and frailer than Miss Jane. She leaned heavily on a cane to force herself upright. She was dressed in heavy mauve velvets that draped and padded her frame, misleading one to think she was perfectly plump and round. She radiated decadence from a mile away, and the expression marring her face was so stern it could freeze Hell.

Will jerked his head up in a curt nod. "Miss Layton, I reckon."

Mrs. Atkins gave his elbow a fierce tug. "Hush! She may hear you."

They ascended the steps and fell under Mrs. Layton's intimidating gaze. Upon seeing them, the corner of her upper lip curled into something more resembling a sneer than a smile. "Miss Jane Atkins. How good of you to come."

"Dorothea Layton, you know I wouldn't miss this for the world." Mrs. Atkins and Mrs. Layton exchanged quick kisses on the cheek, their lack of true affection for each other palpably apparent.

Miss Jane turned and gestured to Will. "Dorothea, may I present…" She hesitated, biting back alarm. The hand she held in his direction trembled uneasily.

"William Ernest Benteen, ma'am," He supplied, immediately coming to her rescue. He swiftly bowed and touched Mrs. Layton's cold white knuckles to his lips. As he rose, he repeated the words he'd been taught like an automaton. "Charmed to make the acquaintance of such a fine lady."

"Well," Mrs. Layton sniffed, taken aback by the boy's stiff demeanor. "Benteen. I've never heard of you. Of what family do you come?"

It was Will's turn to freeze in alarm. Mrs. Atkins laid a bony claw reassuringly on his arm and gave Mrs. Layton a cold look. "I thought surely you'd know, Dorothea. He's only the first boy of the second cousin of the fifth brother of the mother-in-law to the late sister of my father, James Hargrave. His family is only admitted into the finest social circles in Maryland." She inclined her head at the woman's astonished look and slipped her arm back through Will's. "If you don't know of them, then you must not belong to their set."

Hardly able to disguise her look of smug triumph, she nudged Will to move along into the house while Mrs. Layton remained speechless.

"I thought you said we wasn't going to lie," he whispered as they proceeded through the hall and into the parlor.

"And tell Mrs. Layton you're nothing but a nameless Cracker? Certainly not!" She hissed indignantly. "I have a reputation to uphold."

Will breathed a noiseless sigh through his nose and surveyed the scene of activity that greeted them. The pair melded seamlessly into the collection of young men and old women chattering about. Miss Jane tugged at him to stop in the center of the room and directed her gaze to a corner close to a group of other old matrons. "Help me into that seat," she whispered.

He'd no sooner done what she'd asked than an old lady, flanked by two young men no older than Will, strode across the room toward them.

Miss Jane coolly motioned for Will to lean down and disparagingly murmured in his ear, "That's just typical of Mrs. Munson, bringing _both _of her accomplished grandsons with her."

Will had no sooner nodded his head than the old woman and her escorts were upon them. He watched with slight amusement as Miss Jane smiled condescendingly up at the visitor.

"Marybelle Munson, I do declare you're looking quite splendid today! And why shouldn't you be, with such handsome men hanging on either side of you!"

The fat old lady, clad in a bright green gown about two sizes too small for her voluminous frame, smiled primly. "As do you, Jane. Though I do wish you'd wear something a tad more colorful. That horrid black makes you look so thin and pale."

"Miss Jane is in mournin'," Will murmured coldly, quick to defend his patroness from the thinly disguised insult.

"Boy, remember your manners!" Mrs. Atkins crowed, shooting him a wrathful glare. She turned and smiled apologetically at the affronted old woman. "I'm sorry, Marybelle. Boy, this is Mrs. Munson and her grandsons, Charles and James. Marybelle, I'd like you to meet…" She flopped a bony claw in his direction.

"William Ernest Benteen," he said stiffly, reading the script in his head. He bowed. "Charmed to make the acquaintance of such a fine lady."

"Humph," Mrs. Munson sniffed, unimpressed with the boy's uncouth conduct. Ignoring him, she turned back to Miss Jane. "Jane, have you talked to Mrs. Taylor yet?"

"I have not. We only just arrived. Whatever for?"

"Well, she heard from Mrs. Johnston, who heard from Mrs. McNeil, who'd heard from Mrs. Lowry, who heard from one of the servants, that Mrs. Layton is serving the tea at eleven o'clock! I ask you! After I took such care to arrive here, thinking I was early…"

Will, who'd already tuned out the formidable old woman, looked up in surprise as he felt someone brush against his shoulder. Charles and James Munson, abandoning their grandmother's side, had angled their way up to him, cocky grins on their round faces.

"William Ernest Benteen," Charles muttered snidely, "I don't believe we've met before. What school do you attend?"

Will glanced uneasily from one boy to the other, nervously tugging at his cravat. "I…er…don't go to school."

"Oh? A career have you, then?" James drawled, his tone implying that work ranked far below education.

"I work for my father." Will said, tucking his arms behind his back.

"Earning your inheritance to the family estate?" James raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Will thought for a long moment, puzzling it out, before finally nodding. "You could say that, I guess."

Losing interest in the conversation, Charles glanced out the window. "Fine weather we're having, are we not?"

Will followed his gaze and shook his head. "I don't think it's so fine at all. If this keeps up, we're going to have us a hell of a dry spell, which isn't so good for the cotton. They've gotten brittle enough as it is, what with this Indian summer and all. We's afraid they're going to shrivel up and die on us 'fore we can get 'em all harvested."

The Munson boys regarded him with blank looks on their faces. Finally, Charles leaned forward and said, "And getting them all harvested is quite important?"

Will nodded. "Sure. You know what price cotton's bringin' on the market nowadays? Nearly thirty cents a bushel. The demand's skyrocketed in the past few years, and it looks like it'll just keep climbin' from there. We got to get every last plant in the crop out to market if we want to turn a decent profit. Anybody can tell you that."

Anybody most assuredly hadn't, judging by the looks on the boys' faces. James shook his head at the strange young man. "You certainly know a lot about cotton for someone your age."

Will shrugged. "I was raised in a cotton field."

Miss Jane coughed and laid a hand on his arm. "In Maryland…family owns a cotton plantation…in Maryland," she managed to gasp.

Will leaned down in concern. "You all right, Miss Jane?"

Her brown-black eyes gave him a piercing look. "I shall be, _if you remember your role," _she growled lowly.

"Then surely, you must have plenty of slaves to do the work for you," Charles said flippantly. "But overseeing the darkies, that's quite a job in itself. Is it not?"

Will straightened and looked at him solemnly, contemplating his reply. "Well, sir, I've never seen one that don't work his hardest, if that's what you mean. But they get tired, and hungry, and need food and water and rest in the shade to get well again."

James chuckled. "If you let them get away with all that, I'm surprised you don't invite them to your table and hand them eiderdown quilts."

Will paused. "You'd do the same for white folks," he said flatly.

The boys laughed. "But we're talking about _slaves," _Charles chortled. "Though I suppose they're not much different from poor white trash, now that you mention it."

"I'd put the darkies a step above them," James added. "At least they have _some_ sense of manners and propriety. Those pathetic creatures living in the swamps and mountains give white folks a bad name."

"Quite right." Charles nodded. "The mere sight of those scum in town is enough to ruin one's afternoon stroll."

Will glanced from one boy to the other. At that moment, he'd rather be talking to the Everett boys. "They're people, aren't they?"

Before the brothers could articulate a reply, Will turned his back to them. He had nothing more to say to such heartless brats.

Miss Jane was now conversing with a different lady, one wearing a pale, peach-colored dress that would have looked flattering on a young girl, but not an old woman. "And Caroline, she told me just the other day that the child weighed twelve pounds. What could the Foxtons be feeding that baby? He's not a day over two weeks!"

"Miss Jane, ma'am, can I get you anything?" Will murmured, placing his hands on either side of her chair.

Miss Jane glared at him. "Don't be so rude, boy. Can't you see I'm in the middle of a conversation?"

"But Miss Jane, ma'am…"

"You'll excuse me, Caroline." Miss Jane said pointedly before turning to him. "You may fetch me some lemonade, if you must. But please don't be hasty about it," she muttered through clenched teeth, pointing icily to a punch bowl and glasses located on the far side of the room.

Will squirmed, his mind on another place entirely. "Miss Jane, ma'am…"

She frowned at him. "What now?"

He bit his lip, casting a nervous glance at the wealthy and privileged milling around. He hardly thought what he had to say was appropriate for this environment. But there was no way he could make it through the entire tea setting unless…

He leaned down and whispered his question anxiously in Miss Jane's ear.

Mrs. Atkins drew back, her face stony. "For heaven's sake. Down the hall, third door on the left."

Will stared at her incredulously. "You mean it's in the house?"

The room grew silent as every pair of eyes turned toward the newcomers, their expressions a mixture of shock and amusement. Miss Jane's pale skin flamed a bright crimson. Will gulped. In his surprise, he'd forgotten to keep his voice down.

"Come along," Mrs. Atkins fairly gasped, standing and yanking him roughly into the dark hallway beyond. As soon as they'd exited, normal conversation in the room resumed.

Miss Jane marched nearly halfway down the dark corridor before jerking her charge to a stop. She turned to face him, her countenance livid. "You are _not _going to do this! You are _not _going to ruin all of my hard work with your stupid Cracker notions! You have done nothing but embarrass me and make yourself look like an ignorant fool! Where is your sense of duty? Your gratitude? After I painstakingly taught you the little propriety that you have, after I cleaned you up and turned you out proper, this is how you repay me?"

"Miss Jane, them people out there's blooded horses, while I'm just a mule." Will said calmly. "You can learn me manners, and groom me to a shine, and fit me up with the purdiest horse harness you can find. That don't change the fact that I'm still a mule."

"You're certainly as stubborn as a mule!" She cried. "I don't want to hear any more of your senseless jargon, to me or anyone else at this party! Is it too much to ask for you to pretend you're better than what you really are?"

Will looked her in the eyes, his face stony. "Miss Jane, I didn't have my Mama for very long. But I do remember her tellin' me this 'fore she passed: Other people's goin' to think they's better'n you because they got money, and money buys a reputation and respect. All God gave you is your honesty, and two able hands. They's all you got to recommend yourself in life. Use 'em well and you'll earn your respect."

Miss Jane trembled, for once speechless.

"Are you goin' to stand there and tell me my Mama was wrong?" He asked quietly.

Miss Jane closed her eyes and fervently shook her head. "I don't care!" She cried. "I don't care about your honesty, or your integrity, or your humbleness, or any of that silly nonsense! You are representing the Atkins family name, and you will put on pretentious airs and lie through your teeth to uphold it, if you must!"

"Yes'm, Miss Jane," He muttered coldly, eyes glistening as they stared nettle-for-nettle into hers. "I haven't never been wrong about a person before, but I guess I was wrong about you."

He abruptly turned away and entered the washroom to their left, slamming the heavy cedar door behind him.

* * *

When the party was called to tea, Will took his seat across from Mrs. McNeil, between Charles Munson and Mrs. Taylor, only after guiding Miss Jane into hers a little farther down the long dining table. His extravagant bows and 'charming' smiles to the ladies as he helped them into their seats were so forced they looked comic. Miss Jane nodded primly and made polite remarks to the men and ladies seated across from her, keeping one wary eye on her charge all the while.

Mrs. Layton sat as erect as an empress at the head of the table, her head inclined so far back her nose pointed to the ceiling. She moved not a muscle as the servants issued forth from behind her, carrying serving trays and pots of tea for the many guests.

"Mr. Benteen," Mrs. McNeil, the lady in the pale-peach dress, said as she gently picked up a scone from the tray presented to her, "I believe I heard you mention your having already completed your schooling?"

Will looked up at her, startled, at the address. The name 'Mr. Benteen' rankled in his heart, and churned at his stomach. It didn't feel right. It didn't feel right at all. Coughing to erase his strange look of astonishment, he nodded his head. "Yes'm, that's correct." He glanced at the Negro servant filling his teacup and smiled gratefully. He waited for the white-gloved hand to withdraw before picking it up to take a drink, the handle pinched precariously between his thumb and forefinger.

Mrs. McNeil watched him from under hooded eyelids. "Pray tell me, then, what did you think of Europe?"

Will choked on his tea, noisily coughing it out onto the table and a small portion of Charles Munson's cufflink.

The boy drew away from Will, an appalled look on his face. "What the devil!" He exclaimed angrily.

Will, deeply embarrassed, picked the linen napkin up off his lap and tried to mop up the mess. "I'm really sorry," he murmured, swabbing the brown liquid off the table. He tried to wipe away the damp portion of Munson's cuff, but only succeeded in enlarging the stain.

"Stop!" Charles cried, standing and glaring down at Will. "You clumsy nincompoop! Have you any idea how old these cuffs are?"

Conversation at the table continued to buzz around them. The spectacle had attracted the notice only of those sitting within earshot. Will could only gaze helplessly at the angry boy. "I'll get you a new one…"

"I've had enough of your help," Charles snarled before turning and bowing to his hostess at the head of the room. "You'll excuse me, Mrs. Layton. I must withdraw to freshen up," He called loudly over the din.

At her slight nod, he turned and stormed out of the dining hall.

"Do excuse him, he has such a nasty temper."

Will turned back around in his seat, his eyes meeting Mrs. McNeil's amused smile. He swallowed and nodded wordlessly.

She lifted an eyebrow. "Well?"

Will stiffened in his seat, fingers trembling as they reached for his knife and fork. "P-pardon, ma'am?"

"I believe I asked you about Europe."

He concentrated on cutting his scone into acceptable bites, frowning. His heart throbbed as it battled his brain at the back of his throat. "Well, I…"

"You _have _been to Europe, have you not? All upstanding young men conclude their education with a Tour," she said flippantly, mimicking his actions. "I should think you Marylanders are no different."

Will raised his head and glanced down the table. Miss Jane was looking at him, smiling expectantly. He gulped and forced a strained smile across his face. "Why, sure, ma'am. I been to Europe."

"I thought as much. Tell me, which architectural structure did you find the most impressive?"

Will widened his eyes, his mouth slightly agape. Mrs. Taylor leaned over from the seat next to him and murmured, "Caroline finds architecture utterly fascinating. She reads about nothing else. Why, she's such an aficionado, even contractors have difficulty following her!"

"I consider it a thoroughly enthralling hobby," Mrs. McNeil sniffed. "Come, Mr. Benteen. You are not the first young man to be quizzed in this manner. There are so many splendid architectural wonders about Europe. Which did you find most beautiful?"

"Um…" Will bit his lip, looking down to spear a piece of scone on his fork. As he did so, he noticed the pastoral scene painted on the side of his teacup. It pictured a boy and his dog running down a dirt lane, a crumbling chapel in the background.

"The church," he ventured, looking up and taking a bite of his pastry.

Mrs. McNeil cocked her head, still smiling. "Which church?"

"The one…with the bells." He finally managed, his words slow and trembling. He gazed at her calmly.

"Oh. Notre Dame de Paris," she said flatly, crestfallen. "On the Ile de la Cite."

Will nodded hastily. "Yes'm, that's the one."

Mrs. McNeil sighed, the boy obviously not measuring up to her level of artistic appreciation. "Oh, the bell towers are large and magnificent, I'll grant you that. And the flying buttresses were quite unprecedented at the time of its construction. What stood out about it for you to choose it above, say, St. Paul's or the Abbey?"

"Well…" Will looked down at his plate, slightly shaking his head. He was not cut out for this lying game. "I thought it was…very fine…and beautiful."

"You have an acquired and peculiar taste, Mr. Benteen," Mrs. McNeil sniffed. "I find Gothic architecture to be far too gloomy and depressing."

Will exhaled in noiseless relief as she turned away, striking up a new topic of conversation with the lady on her right. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to conjure up any more impressions of Europe.

"What say you of the Elba?"

He turned his head to see Mrs. Taylor now smiling at him benignly. "Ma'am?" He stammered.

"I personally considered the Elba the most impressive sight I've ever seen."

"Oh. In Europe," he said resignedly.

"Did you not think it afforded the most magnificent view?"

Will feigned a smile and nodded. "I thought it was very fine and beautiful."

Mrs. Taylor gazed at him, a faraway look in her eyes. "So very tranquil and sedate…"

Will nodded. "Yes'm, it's tall, all right."

Mrs. Taylor sat up, her gray-blonde brows knitting together. "The Elba is a _river._"

"Oh…right." Will colored and pushed around the few remaining bites on his plate. He could feel Miss Jane's beady black eyes burning into his head. He gritted his teeth. "Right. I knew that. I thought you meant the…the…" He set his fork down with a clatter. "S-somethin' else," he finished meekly.

Mrs. Taylor shook her head and sipped her tea. "Tell me. How many slaves do you own back in Maryland?"

"Seventeen…" Will murmured, thinking of the largest number he could call to mind. He shook under the other guests' strange looks. They apparently found something unsatisfactory about that number. He swallowed and fiddled with the soggy napkin on his lap. "Er…thousand?"

"Seventeen thousand!" Mrs. Taylor declared. She gazed at him in astonishment. "You really must have quite an establishment!"

"Yes'm. Biggest one there is," he replied, his face burning. The lies were becoming easier. The ideas no longer had to be wrestled from the prison of his reluctant mind. The words no longer played a tug-of-war with his tongue as they escaped his throat. His heart no longer tore in anguish at every falsehood that fell from his lips. He bowed his head, completely disgusted with the creature he'd become.

"You really must relax," Mrs. Taylor laid a fat hand on his trembling arm. "I've never seen such a boy look so nervous and uncomfortable!"

He lifted his head and nodded grimly at her. "I'm sorry, ma'am. This is the first time I ever been in these parts."

The judge's wife smiled sympathetically. "What part of Maryland do you come from?"

"Um…the middle." He turned and shakily picked his cup back up. "Right in the middle of the state."

"Oh? Which towns are the closest to your home?"

Will silently stared at his plate, his thoughts turning over at a rapid pace. "Well…the ones in the middle."

Mrs. Taylor stared at him incredulously. "You mean, you have no understanding of your local geography whatsoever?"

He smiled apologetically. "I don't go out much."

A young man sitting cattycorner to Will's right leaned across the table, appraising Will suspiciously. "This _magnificent _cotton empire in Maryland. You stand to inherit it, do you not?"

Will turned to him blankly. "Well, yes."

"You seem very attentive to the sordid fields for someone whose future is so assured," he drawled airily.

"You don't think…gentleman farming is honorable?" Will asked slowly.

"Actually, I do." The man sneered. "I've just never met another gentleman farmer so intimately acquainted with his business from the ground up."

Will evenly met his gaze. This boy was intelligent. He saw through the farce perfectly. Will gulped and slowly inclined his head. "That's what gives us an edge over our neighbors."

Mrs. Taylor, oblivious to the boy's innuendos, smiled at Will. "I'm sure you have to be quite successful, considering your social reputation. Your father must be a very great man."

At the mention of his father, hot tears brimmed in Will's eyes and threatened to fall. He quickly averted his face and drew a couple of long, silent breaths. His hands reached out and clutched the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white. Bile rose to the back of his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut. The world had turned a violent shade of red behind his eyelids. "Yes'm," he choked hoarsely. "A very…great…man…"

"Stop!" Miss Jane cried out, swiftly rising out of her seat.

Everyone, including Will, turned silently toward her, surprised at her sudden outburst. The grand old lady, however, only had eyes for her tortured young ward.

"Please, stop! Can't you see you're crucifying him?" She stretched a bony claw in his direction, eyes brimming with sadness and shame.

Will, trembling, slowly shook his head. "Miss Jane, don't…"

"I'll do as I see fit!" She declared, dropping her hand and balling it up into a fist. "And this isn't fitting at all!" She glared contemptuously at her contemporaries, scanning their faces defiantly. Will bit his lip and gazed up at her adoringly. The real Miss Jane, the one who'd expertly fired a Mississippi rifle into a fray, was once again standing before him.

"He's no planter's son." She lifted her chin and turned her head toward the immovable Mrs. Layton. "He's a _Cracker, _a drunken sharecropper's son that does housework for me on Sundays!"

She smiled as she observed the gasps and looks of horror among the guests. Even Mrs. Layton solicited a reaction. Mrs. Taylor abruptly drew away from Will, a look of tart disgust on her face. The gentleman cattycorner to Will pointed at the boy triumphantly. "I knew it!"

"But you didn't know that when you first saw him. You didn't treat him like common trash!" Miss Jane cried, her voice shaky. She turned and met Will's gaze, her eyes soft for the first time. "Because he isn't," she murmured. "He's one of the most genuine, honest, kind-hearted people I've ever met in my life.

"But I couldn't realize that," she snarled, directing her gaze once again at the guests. "He tried to show me this, but I didn't listen. I couldn't see past his lowly birth and coarse manners. So I tried to change him. I tried to turn him into one of us, utterly superficial and lacking in common decency! I stripped him of everything he could be proud of. And all to save my name at this ridiculous party!

"Well, I was wrong. And I'm not afraid to stand here and admit it!" Her eyes narrowed at her audience, all of them speechless with shock. "Will doesn't need teacups and books and trips to Europe to prove his worth. He's slow and clumsy and awkward…but he's got something." She strode over and stood behind Will. He looked up to see her place her bony claws on each of his shoulders, hugging him to her protectively. "And I'm not going to sit here and watch you destroy it any longer!"

Silence ensured. No one dared move, or hardly respire. Even the Negro servants stood crowded behind the doorway, listening breathlessly. Miss Jane had stunned them all so completely, they could hardly register, much less believe, what they were seeing.

Her wrinkled mouth curled in its well-bred sneer, she stepped back and offered her hand to him. "Come, Will. I believe you and I have a toad-catching contest to attend."

Will, his eyes wide with disbelief, stood and gratefully tucked her proffered arm through his. He moved forward in a daze, slowly escorting his patroness toward the door.

She hurried him along as soon as they were rid of the dining room. Will tried to make his feet move in keeping with hers, but ended up stumbling repeatedly. "Miss Jane," he breathed incredulously when he could find his voice, "you called me Will."

She stopped and turned to him, arching a brow. "That's your name, isn't it?"

A wide smile slowly broke out across Will's face. He was so full of love and reverence for her that words failed him. He bowed his head before the most incredible lady there ever was, tenderly holding her bony hand against his heart.

She smiled down at him before quickly rearranging her features. "Tosh," she flapped her hand against him and nodded toward the door. "Let's not keep your friends waiting any longer."

He nodded, and together they rushed out to summon Tomlin.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Ruddy Simmons looked up from where he'd been drawing in the dirt. He sat beneath the cedar tree, knees drawn up against his chest. "What if he don't come?"

"Don't worry, he'll come," Henry snapped, pacing back and forth along the pond. He carried a willow twig in front of him, aimlessly swinging it to and fro. He, like Ruddy, wore a considerably loosened, sweaty cotton shirt under his overhalls, sleeves and pants rolled up as high as they could be. He glanced from time to time across the pond at the Everett brothers, who were smirking and conversing amongst themselves.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I just have a feelin', okay?" Henry frowned at his teammate before ambling over to the small bank that looked over the pond. "You all right, Mary?"

Will's little sister gazed up from where she sat stretched out on the grass, Isaiah on her lap. She straightened her bonnet and nodded. "I'm fine. But…where's Billy?"

Henry sighed. "Wouldn't we all like to know?"

"He should be here by now." Mary glanced around, placing her arms around the little mulatto boy. "It ain't like Billy to just not show up."

"You just stay right there an' let me worry 'bout him showin' up." Henry waggled a finger at her sternly. "I done promised Stephen I'd keep you two safe out here."

Isaiah looked across the pond at the Everett boys, his blue eyes round with fear. Mary's grip on him tightened as she followed his gaze. "We're okay for now," she muttered, her body tense.

Henry nodded and walked the few steps down the bank to the water's edge. He paused and looked down at the ground before resuming his pacing.

Hugh chuckled and cupped his hands around his mouth. "We don't got all day, Kinlan. He ain't gonna come. Give up now an' forfeit the game!"

Henry continued his measured plodding, pretending he hadn't heard. He raised his head to glance down the long dirt path leading to the road. All of a sudden, he stopped and squinted appraisingly. "Hold on, I think I see somethin'!"

At the head of the lane, two figures appeared to be approaching. One handed a long coat to the other before taking off at a run toward the pond. The other followed slowly at a stately walk.

Ruddy stood and shielded his eyes from the late afternoon sun. "Is it Will?"

Henry bit his lip and shook his head. "No, it ain't him. This feller's too clean-cut."

"Then what's he want with us?"

Henry shrugged. "I da'no. Maybe we's trespassin'."

Ruddy crossed his arms. "We ain't trespassin'. This is Dill Hornsby's land. He said we could…" his voice trailed off as the running figure came clearer into view. The Everett boys stopped laughing and likewise directed their attention to the newcomer. Hugh gaped and pointed incredulously. "Lookit there! What did I tell ya? He even looks uppity now!"

Henry froze, unable to keep from staring. "No…it can't be…"

The immaculate stranger flew past the boys and up the bank to where Mary and Isaiah sat, shedding his waistcoat as he ran. Snapping out of his trance, Henry quickly darted after him. "Hey!"

"I came as quick as I could, Henry! Go ahead and get in the water!" A familiar voice called as the boy turned his head over his shoulder.

Henry stopped dead in his tracks, panting. He leaned over and squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh, my God…it _is _him!"

Mary gazed at him, her face a mixture of disbelief and dismay, as he plopped down beside her and frantically began unlacing his boots. He smelled of lye and looked pristine, his pores clean instead of sweaty and dirt-encrusted. He yanked at the cravat around his neck until he'd pulled it free, revealing a shirt collar only slightly damp from exertion. Tossing the boots aside, he peeled away a pair of socks before hurriedly rolling up his pants with hands so clean they appeared to have never seen an honest day's work. She tentatively laid a hand on his arm and gazed up into his face. "Billy?"

"It's just some clothes and a haircut, Mary." He paused in his work to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. "You two be all right up here durin' the contest?"

"No harm will come to them. I'll make sure of that."

Brother and sister looked up to see Miss Jane standing over them, smiling benevolently. "You go on. You're late enough as it is."

"Thank you, Miss Jane," Will murmured, hugging Mary and Isaiah in parting before dashing down the incline into the murky pond. He waded out to where Henry and Ruddy stood in the middle, facing the three Everett brothers. He stopped between his two teammates, looking from one to the other expectantly. "Well? I promised I'd be here."

Henry continued to stare at him strangely, as if he couldn't believe he was really looking at his friend. Will seemed utterly transformed. The disheveled mass of cotton chaff that fell over his eyes was gone, revealing rather large ears and a completely unobstructed view of his lean, malarial face, save for the neatly parted bangs that masked his black eye. With skin as smooth and red as a newborn's and clothes still neatly creased, he looked like some rich folks' boarding school brat, not Henry's best friend.

"Lord have mercy, Will," he whispered, "what happened to you?"

"I can explain later," he murmured in reply before turning his attention to a boy standing at the opposite end of the pond.

Dill Hornsby stood on the bank, waving at the teams. He was the only boy in Sunday school who knew how to tell time on the dirty, busted-up pocket watch he'd found on a street corner and carried with him always. As a result, he was the only one even remotely qualified to officiate the contest. He stood between two brown crates, holding his prized possession at the ready. "All right, y'all! This here's my pond, an' I know fer a fact there's plenty of toads in it waitin' to be catched! When you get one, bring it on up here an' drop it in your team's crate. The team what's catched the mostest toads at the end of the hour is the winner!"

"Pussy!" Clay Everett spat at Will, giggling nastily. Hugh met Will's calm gaze and smirked, nodding. This game was going to be played _their _way, on _their _terms. No mercy would be spared.

Dill raised his hand, looking at his watch. "Ready…set…"

Ruddy hopped up and down in anticipation. Henry turned to his teammates grimly. "We got this, we got this."

"Go!" Dill cried, dropping his arm.

As soon as he did so, Hugh pounced on Will and tackled him into the mud. Mary screamed from her spot on the bank. The other four boys had already spread apart, searching the water for toads.

Will struggled mightily as Hugh straddled him, forcing him facedown against the sandy pond bottom. "You goody-goody, snot-nosed nigger lover!" Hugh cried, grabbing the back of Will's neck and pounding his head against the bottom. Water flooded his nostrils and clogged his throat. He clawed in the mud for angle, but couldn't seem to draw his legs up against the slippery surface.

"Hugh, stop it! You're goin' to drown him!" Mary shrieked. She moved forward in an effort to get up, but Miss Jane caught her wrist and held her back. Isaiah cowered fearfully in her lap, hiding his face.

Will tried desperately to throw the boy off his back, but his efforts weakened as the oxygen flow to his brain rapidly tanked. He could only hope the boy would tire of him and leave him be.

"Who's the real man, now?" Hugh crowed triumphantly as Will ceased to struggle. He slowly stood up, leaving the tall boy prone on the bottom of the pond. He kicked him in the ribs for good measure before stalking away, laughing.

Will let himself float to the surface and rolled over on his back. He emerged, coughing and spluttering wildly. He shook his head and flailed in the water as he struggled to regain his footing.

"You all right there, Will?" Henry called flatly, not looking up from the water.

He nodded and hauled his soggy frame upright, curtly wiping the sludge out of his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine."

In the meantime, Tommy and Clay had already managed to catch two toads and dump them into their crate. Things were swiftly not shaping up in Henry's team's favor.

"Billy, please be careful!" Mary called, grimacing.

Hugh lifted his head and grinned at her. "Don't you worry your purdy little head none 'bout your brother. We's gonna take…"

Will sloshed up to him and grabbed his shirt collar, his face stony. "Don't you talk to her."

Hugh tittered. "Will, I was jus' tryin' to make nice with…"

"I mean it." Will roughly let him go and turned away. "You leave her out of this."

"All right, Will," Hugh shrugged, straightening. "If that's what you want." He raised his arm and dealt him a cold blow across the shoulders, knocking him into the water once again.

Mary ducked her head and hid her face against Miss Jane's skirts, sobbing. The old woman slowly sat down and placed a protective arm around the girl and boy.

While Hugh stood over his felled foe, Henry wrestled a struggling toad out of the water and swiftly began carrying it toward the bank. Tommy Everett, smirking, straightened from his spot and moved to stand in his way. Henry tried ducking around him, but Tommy followed his movements, effectively blocking his path.

"Hey, let me by!" Henry shouted in frustration. Suddenly, he let out a yelp of surprise and let go of the squirming toad in his hands as Clay pounced onto his back.

Tommy easily caught the toad and moved the few remaining feet to the bank, placing it with the other two in their crate. "Got us another one," he gloated triumphantly.

Henry threw off the smallest Everett boy and angrily pointed at Tommy, flinging mud that dripped from his arms. "That ain't fair! You can't do that! _I_ catched that toad!" He gazed appealingly up at the bank. "Dill!"

Hornsby shrugged, concentrating on his watch. "Don't look at me, I's just keepin' time."

"You bunch of dirty cheaters!" Henry screamed, bearing down on Tommy with fists flying. Will, who'd managed to get out from under Hugh, calmly stepped in between and held his friend back.

"Let me go! Let me go, Will!" Henry struggled against his firm grasp. "They ain't goin' to cheat me an' get away with it!"

"Time out, Henry," Will murmured, leading him over to a quiet end of the pond.

"Stop it! I don't need no stinkin' time out! Let me at 'im!" Henry wrestled violently against Will, but he was no match for the tall boy's quiet strength.

"Cool it down, now," Will murmured. "We need to talk."

"No!" Henry spat, his face bright red with rage.

Will silently held the boy's arms still and bent down, dunking Henry's head under the murky water. He brought him back up coughing and gasping for air.

"Will you just talk a minute, now?"

Henry resignedly nodded and shook his hair out of his eyes. "All right, Will. You win."

He let go and calmly looked over his shoulder at the other boys combing the water. "That's just it, Henry. We keep goin' the way we are, there ain't no way we can win this here contest."

"You're tellin' me." Henry's eyes narrowed coldly. "Them no-good cheatin' toad-catchers!"

"Now, just hold on, Henry." Will grabbed a hold of the shorter boy's overhall strap. "This game's goin' to be played their way, and there ain't nothin' you and me can do about it. If we's goin' to have a chance to win, we's goin' to have to adapt, and quick."

"But how? How do you try an' win a game against a bunch of dirty cheaters?"

Will sighed, his face as blank as usual. "It's me they want. More'n anything else, even winnin' this game, they want to give me Hell. So I'm goin' to just let 'em. I's hopin' maybe I can keep 'em occupied long enough so's you and Ruddy can catch us some toads and actually get 'em in the crate."

"That's hopeless, Will!" Henry glanced over at their teammate still pawing the water, crestfallen. "Ruddy ain't never catched a toad in his life. I can't do all the work myself!"

"I reckon you're right," Will sighed noiselessly. "But it's the only shot we got."

The boys separated and moved to opposite ends of the pond, heads bent and eyes trained on the water's surface.

Will stationed himself nearest Hugh and stretched his arms into the murky water, bending his bottom right over the space the other boy was combing. He bit his lip and sneaked a glance over at Henry, who had nearly submerged himself beneath a mossy corner of the pond.

"Get your uppity ass outta my face."

"Sorry," Will muttered, moving a fraction to the left.

Hugh looked up and frowned. He roughly placed his hand on the boy's bony butt and shoved him forward into the water.

With a splash, Will disappeared beneath the surface, but returned to view a moment later. He quickly hauled himself up and stood looking blankly at Hugh, water running off of his arms and down his face in large, muddy droplets. "I said I was sorry."

"Don't you talk down to me!" Hugh sneered and spat in Will's face.

"Okay, Hugh," he said simply and turned his attention back to the water. The hulking bully boy seethed at his turned back, his bloated face slowly becoming a bright shade of red.

"Just who do you think you are, anyway?" He grabbed Will by his soggy shirt collar and hauled him back around to face him. "Your father ain't nothin' but a miserable, nigger bangin' drunk!"

"Let it go, Billy!" Mary squeaked from the direction of the bank.

Will glanced over Hugh's shoulder and saw Henry struggling with a toad across the water. He shrugged unemotionally. "He's no better'n your daddy, Hugh." He coolly met the smoldering depths of the other boy's eyes. "At least he don't bang goats."

"You take that back!" Hugh snarled, nostrils flared angrily.

Will pried himself out of Hugh's grasp and gruffly took a step backwards. "I ain't goin' to take back what's true."

"You liar!" Hugh roared, throwing himself at Will. The wiry boy calmly stepped aside and watched him tumble face-first into the water.

Will hunkered down and waited for the boy to lift his head out of the water. As soon as Hugh emerged, he grabbed the boy's head by his hair and socked him across the face, sending him splashing back down into the sludge.

He straightened and placed his hands on his hips. A second later, he fell forward into the water as he felt two small pairs of arms latch onto him from behind. The Everett boys had finally ganged up on him.

They rolled and tumbled in a tangled heap against the murky bottom, Tommy and Clay biting, punching and kicking Will at every opportunity. Will feebly attempted to throw them off, but with little success. He closed his eyes and rolled over onto the sandy stones in defeat, wincing at the hard little fists jabbing his sides and neck. As soon as Hugh stopped seeing stars, he rejoined the fight, effectively aiding his brothers in beating the lanky boy into a pulp.

When they finally tired of him, they moved off, smirking nastily. "That's the last time we done let you get uppity with us!" Hugh pointed to Will curtly.

"Yeah, nigger-lovin' pussy!" Tommy cackled.

Will slowly hauled his bruised body out of the water and waved reassuringly to Mary. He grimaced as he bent forward over the surface again, taking slow, unsteady steps through the sludge. He glanced over at his teammate, who was now searching the part of the pond closest to Dill and the crates. "Any luck, Henry?"

"Naw, Will. Ain't caught a thing," Henry murmured disinterestedly, giving his pal a surreptitious wink.

* * *

"Daddy..." Jane looked up at her father, the questioning look burning bright in her wide blue eyes.

"Mmm?"

"Did that boy's daddy really hit goats?"

"What?"

"By bangin' them on the head?"

"Oh." Will brought a hand to his mouth and solemnly stroked his chin, his thumb brushing over the dried mud Jane had smeared across his face. "It was hurtful, all right."

"I should think so!" Jane cried, balling her muddy fists and crossing them across her chest indignantly. "Only a mean meanie would bang up an innocent little goat!"

"Now, Jane - wait. Hold on just a minute." Will held up a hand, an amused light glowing in the depths of his pale blue eyes. "That was a very hurtful thing for me to say. I only said it cause I was real mad, and I wanted him to be as mad at me as I was at him." He gave his daughter a serious look. "But that don't make it right. And I don't want you to _ever _say anything hurtful like that to your sisters or brother, no matter how boilin' mad they make you. Understood?"

"Yessir." Jane nodded meekly.

"All right." Will settled back against the tree trunk. "I also think it'd be best if we don't mention anything around Mama 'bout this bangin' up goat business."

"Why, Daddy? Are the hurt goats too upsetting for her?"

"Yes, baby. They would make her very, very upset."

* * *

Minutes passed. Both teams continued to come up toadless as the seconds ticked dutifully on toward the hour. The late afternoon sun glared relentlessly down on the swampy pond, its bright reflection simmering on the water's surface. Will lifted his head to squint at it appraisingly. "Reckon the sun's made the water too hot," he murmured. "Them toads must've skedattled someplace cooler."

"Shut up, pussy." Hugh growled nastily, not looking up from the water. "Nobody ain't interested in your stupid ideas."

Will shrugged and paused alongside the bank, looking up at his sister. Mary's gaze was cast down at her lap, her wide brow puckered with anxiety. She concentrated intently on the faded brown pattern of her dress, her finger gently tracing over the lines. A few feet away, Isaiah crouched in the grass, collecting rocks into a pile. He picked them up in his small, creamy brown palm and fondled them curiously before holding them up and showing them one at a time to Miss Jane.

"Mary," Will said softly.

The girl looked up alertly and grimaced, her shoulders sagging. "Billy, I can't take it anymore. Can't we just go home, please?"

"But Mary..."

"I ain't goin' to watch you get beat up no more!" She pouted defiantly, hurling her fist into the grass. "Let's go home."

"I can't..."

"It ain't worth it!" She cried, meeting his gaze. Hurt welled up in her eyes and contorted her face with concern.

Will managed a lopsided smile. "It's just a game, Mary. It don't mean nothin'. Why, we's just all havin' fun, that's all."

"Sure." She crossed her arms and turned away, her sad gaze trained on the grass. "If you ask me, it stopped bein' a game 'fore it got started."

Will breathed a noiseless sigh and turned instead to Miss Jane and the mulatto boy. "Isaiah."

At his name, the child turned his head, his pale blue eyes bright and questioning.

"Catch." He picked up one of the small rocks, worn smooth by the water, that had been sitting at the edge of the bank. He held it up before gently tossing it toward where the boy sat. It bounced in the grass next to the boy, who snatched it up immediately. He was still for a long moment, running his finger over the flawlessly unabrasive surface.

"You like that one? Here's another." Will picked up a stone and threw it into the same patch of grass. He reached for another and paused, tentatively feeling the rough, bumpy surface. He looked down. It was a rock, all right - Ruddy's toady rock. He grabbed it up and passed it back and forth in his hands, studying the dark, muddy brown mass of sediment and fossil. It was about the same size as a toad, it felt like a toad, and from a distance, it certainly looked like a toad. He shrugged passively and tucked it under his arm, shielding the object from view as he moved back toward the center of the pond.

He stopped then and bent over, surreptitiously dropping the rock into the pond. He dipped his arms into the water, slowly brushing his fingertips over the bumpy grooves. At the sound of the plop, Tommy and Hugh slowly began converging to form a human wall between Will and the crates.

The corner of his mouth tugged at a grin that was gone in an instant. "Hey, Henry," he called languidly, "how's it goin'?"

The dark-haired boy disgustedly shook his head. "Shut up," he snapped, lifting his gaze long enough to make eye contact with his friend. His dark pupils burned with intensity.

Will nodded and quickly turned back to his spot. He made a sudden motion to grab the rock with both hands, then stood still, gazing quietly down at his reflection on the murky surface. He risked a quick glance at the Everett wall, which was watching him closely. He then lunged forward, submerging himself underwater.

Away from prying eyes, the swirling sludge making every move slow and methodical, Will held his breath and tucked the toady rock down the front collar of his shirt. He paused for a moment, absorbing the peaceful murmur of the water droning in his ears, before flailing his way back to the surface.

He emerged, gasping, his arms waving wildly. "Damn thing got away," he said in dismay.

A short way across the pond, Hugh made a motion to Clay, nodding his head gruffly in Will's direction.

The tall boy hauled himself upright, the rock a bumpy protrusion against his sopping white shirt. He slowly sloshed his way toward Dill and the crates, eyes trained on the water.

"Where do you think you're goin'?"

Will looked up to see Hugh scowling down at him nastily, arms crossed in front of him. Tommy stood behind his older brother, a look of sadistic glee on his face. He glanced from one to the other and shrugged. "Over where I think I might find a toad. That's what we's huntin', ain't it?"

The strong bully grabbed Will's shirt collar with his fists and hoisted him up out of the water. "I think you already found us one, smartass."

"Hugh!"

All three boys turned their heads in the direction of the bank. Mary was pulling against Miss Jane's grasp, her face red and etched with fury. "Don't you dare hurt him no more!"

Hugh flashed her a sweet, sarcastic smile as he gently set Will back down in the water. "Gosh, I sure wouldn't wanna do that, Mary," he said, letting go of the wiry boy's shirt and pretending to dust off his shoulders. "If he just warn't so mean all the time, I'd a never touched him."

Will stared at him, his gaze hard and cold. His thin hands curled into fists at his sides. "I told you...don't...talk to her," he growled lowly.

Hugh ignored him, holding the palm of his hand out in Will's direction. "Just give me what's mine already."

"Sure, Hugh," Will mumbled. He paused, body rigid and trembling, before swinging his fist swiftly into the boy's jaw. The crunch of bone on bone crackled loudly as Hugh, stunned, fell backward into the water.

In a flash, Will felt Clay leap onto him from behind, kicking and digging his dirty fingernails into the boy's bony shoulders. He reached around in an attempt to pry the child off. As he did so, Tommy socked him soundly in the gut, sending Will to his knees.

From the bank, Mary closed her eyes and furiously buried her face in Miss Jane's skirts. "It's not fair," she sobbed brokenly.

Hugh, tenderly feeling his jaw, finally sat up in the water. He frowned when he saw Tommy and Clay staring down at their felled nemesis. "Don't just stand there! Git the toad!" He hollered, pointing angrily at his brothers.

The two boys sprang into action, nearly bumping into each other as they scrambled in the water surrounding Will.

Making few movements, Will let himself float away from the patch Tommy and Clay were splashing through. He'd already dropped the rock from his shirt. It now rested on the murky bottom. The Everetts were too keen to mistake any rock for a toad, even if they did find it. He slowly stood up and watched, his face stony, as they desperately combed the water for the nonexistent toad. A faint light shone in the depths of his pale blue eyes.

A fluttering movement in the corner of his vision caught his attention. He turned his head to see Henry a few feet away from the crates, signaling to him for more time. Will nodded and turned back to the boys.

Tommy and Clay had drifted north of the spot, shouting and throwing sprays of water in the air. Frustrated, Tommy hauled his younger brother up by his overhall strap and shoved him out of the way. He danced in place, anxiously scanning the water's surface. Clay picked himself up, crying as he wiped the muddy sludge from his face. The moment he caught sight of his brother, he growled and rammed his bowed, dripping head into Tommy's stomach.

Will swiftly moved forward and reached down beneath the water's surface. His presence went virtually unnoticed by the fighting brothers. He laid his hands, palms flat, along the rocks lining the pond bottom. In a mere minute or two, his fingers brushed up against the all-too-familiar rock. With a calculated cry of triumph, he closed both hands around it and lifted it out of the water.

He'd no sooner straightened his back than a large stone pummeled into his gut. Will felt the thud, followed by the whisper of all breath leaving his body. He dropped the toady rock and crumpled forward, emitting a low moan.

Hugh laughed, the dark undertones of his high peal ringing across the pond. He turned from his place on the water's edge and gazed up the bank at Will's sister. "You like that, Mary?"

The girl, her bonnet toppled awry over her mass of stringy, pale-pink locks, peered cautiously around the grand old woman, holding the black skirts against her puffy, tear-streaked face. Her brow furrowed menacingly over a blue eye sparkling with hate. Her lips were locked in a firm scowl at Hugh, opening only to breathe vehemence into her words. "You _monster!"_

Miss Jane turned her body, shielding Mary from view. She looked over her shoulder at the boy, her features arranged in a cool sneer of disdain. "You won't talk to her again."

A shudder ran up Hugh's spine as he gazed upon the old dragon. He trembled at her penetrating eyes, remembering all to clearly how they'd looked through the v-notched sight of her Mississippi rifle. "Y-yes'm," he barely managed to stutter, his throat choked up with fear.

Miss Jane inclined her head and closed her eyes. She wasn't about to waste another moment of her attentions on such a lowly, despicable young man.

Shakily, Hugh turned and sloshed through the pond. He gazed round at the other boys still bent over the water, treading slowly. Will was shaking his head, having just pulled himself out of the muck again. All six boys seemed to move as if in a daze, their actions slow and deliberate.

"Time's up!"

The trance broken, all six pairs of eyes looked alertly toward the bank, where Dill was pointing proudly to his watch. "A whole hour's gone!" He cried, his freckled face breaking into a dimpled smile. He spit-shined his watch and rubbed it with his sleeve, satisfied of a job well done.

His expression suddenly alight with glee, Hugh turned and pointed tauntingly at Will. "Ha! You lost! You lost, you lost, you lost! Who's the big man now? Lily-livered pussy! We won!" He faced his younger brothers, letting out a whoop of exalted triumph.

"Not so fast, Hugh." Henry planted his feet wide and placed his muddy hands on his hips. He nodded to the boy on the bank, grim gaze trained on the eldest Everett all the while. "Go ahead an' count 'em, Dill."

Dill reached down into the Everett brothers' crate, organizing the toads out of the boys' view. "One...two...three."

Tommy narrowed his eyes at Henry. "See?" He gloated.

Dill straightened and moved over to do the same with Henry's team's crate. "One...two..." He looked up at the gathering, his face blank. "...three. It's a tie."

"What?" Hugh's jaw slackened completely.

"Cheaters!" Tommy cried, swinging a finger at Henry. "They cheated! Bunch a lousy cheaters!" He turned appealingly toward the bank. "Dill, tell 'em so!"

The boy shrugged and pocketed his watch, eyes trained on the ground. "Don't look at me. I was just keepin' time."

"Liar!" He darted over to Henry and grabbed his shirt, fist held high at the ready. "I'm gonna..."

"You was the ones that was cheatin'!" Henry growled, poised to punch back.

"We put them toads in there, fair an' square! There warn't no way you coulda put them toads in there!"

"Was so!"

"Yeah! By cheatin'!"

"Not..."

"Hold your tongues!"

The boys immediately fell silent and looked toward Miss Jane, who'd spoken. Once sure she'd obtained everyone's attention, she nodded her head toward Dill. "Your friend wishes to say something."

"Well..." Dill shifted his bare feet to and fro uncomfortably. "Fellers...we ain't ever had no tie before...an' I reckon now ain't the time to do no different. We gotta break it somehow." He gulped. "So the first person what catches the next toad, whoever he is, why, that feller's team wins." He nodded. "Go to it."

Hugh and Tommy met eyes and mutually nodded. The large boy began sloshing his way toward Will, who'd just fished his toady rock back out of the water. "Gimme that, pussy!"

Will nodded calmly. "All right, Hugh. If you want it, you can have it." He straightened and hurled the rock at Hugh, pummeling him in the chest.

Hugh gasped and hit the water. Will immediately set to work combing the mud for toads. He only had a few seconds, however, before the bully recovered and jumped on top of him, squashing him against the pond bottom.

Across the way, Henry and Tommy rolled in the water, throwing punches at each other. Clay jumped from one corner to another, frantically trying to be the first to find a toad. Ruddy stood still in one spot, contemplating the surface with a dopey look on his face.

Clay's splashing startled one of the elusive creatures, causing it to hop out of the boy's path ten feet away.

"I seen one! I got it, I got it!" He cried, darting noisily in the toad's direction. The brown amphibian leaped again, though Clay had considerably narrowed the gap. This time, the boy finally had enough sense to pause and wait for the toad's next move. Tommy and Henry ceased fighting long enough to watch in silence.

Clay pounced when the toad took flight. He reached as far as his arms possibly could, his fingers brushing against the toad's slimy back. _Almost...quite...there..._

It wasn't enough. The toad narrowly evaded his grasp. He crashed down into the water, sending up an enormous spray. The noise frightened the toad, who jumped once more and landed squarely in the arms of...

"Ruddy!" Henry cried, dark eyes wide with shock. "You did it! You catched a toad!"

"I did?" He bent his head and looked down at the toad nestled in his arms. His pale lips broke into a wide smile beneath the long, rust-colored hair. "I did!"

"Henry's team wins!" Dill declared with finality, pointing his finger in the air.

"Way to go, Ruddy!" Henry barreled across the water and tackled the boy in a fierce hug. "You did it!"

"No!" Clay cried, still stretched flat on his stomach. He lifted his fist and pounded it down in the water despondently.

"It cain't be!" Tommy crossed his arms. "It ain't fair! He didn't catch that toad!"

"He got it in his arms, don't he? An' no one put it there, right?" Dill stared blankly at the boy.

"But..."

"So he caught it. Game's over."

Tommy frowned and kicked noisily at the pond surface. "I wanna redo!"

"Shit," Hugh grunted, standing slowly and sloshing away. Will finally wriggled out from under him, gasping for breath.

Henry had lifted Ruddy onto his shoulders, whooping loudly. Ruddy clutched the toad in both hands, holding it high over his head in triumph. The short, dark-haired boy marched up out of the water and began climbing the bank.

Will stood and smiled calmly at the small celebration. He could see Mary finally laughing in relief, seated in the grass next to Miss Jane. Isaiah, still playing with his rocks, sat up on his knees and stared at the hollering boys with curiosity. Dill emptied the crates, releasing the toads back into the water. He dragged the boxes behind him as he began trudging back toward his house. The Everett boys had already slunk away, shameful in defeat.

Henry cautiously turned his head a fraction and met his friend's gaze. "C'mon, Will! We won!"

He lifted a hand in acknowledgment and shuffled toward the bank, his lanky frame casting long shadows in the late afternoon sun. Covered with a fine layer of swampy green-brown mud, his new white shirt hanging in soggy tatters, he felt more content than he had in a week. They had all won, he reckoned. Ruddy, Henry, Mary, Isaiah, himself, Miss Jane...

He looked up and met the old woman's warm gaze, breaking into a placid smile. Yes, even the great lady had learned a thing or two from the week's events.

Will joined the ragtag assembly of revelers and helped his best pal shoulder Ruddy's weight. Mary took his other hand and grasped it firmly, pressing it against her side. Miss Jane picked up Isaiah and stepped beside the dirty, elated children, laughing as the little mulatto boy raised his arms in imitation of Ruddy. Despite their many differences, they all shared one quality - trueness. And that single quality, when expressed by each one, made them really and truly great.

* * *

"...An' you've got trueness in you, too, darlin'. I've seen it. It ain't the same as Susie's, or Martha's or Master Robert's," Will murmured, his mind returning to the present. "It's all yours, and whatever you think, we do love you for it. You just don't know it's there yet. But when you do find it, I know you'll be as great a little lady as ever lived."

He looked down and started in surprise to see Jane softly shaking her head, tears swiftly running down the sides of her red, muddy face. Before he could say anything, she reached up and fiercely hugged his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. "I love you, Daddy," she sobbed.

Will was silent, his heart too full for words. Soundlessly, he stretched his strong arm around her ruined dress and held her close, his other hand gently caressing the girl's clumped, muddy locks.

The sun dipping below the tops of the orchard trees, darkening the grove, alerted Will's attention to the time. Pushing his back against the tree trunk and planting his only foot firmly into the ground, he shoved himself upright without releasing his hold on his daughter. He relaxed his grip and cradled the girl in his arms, holding her knees even with her head. Her small, dingy hands remained tightly clasped behind his neck.

"All right, baby. Let's go home," he whispered quietly. He waited for her tentative little nod before stumping off toward the house.

They exited the orchard, moving slowly past the row of abandoned cabins, before finally emerging on the red clay road leading to Tara's front porch. As he haltingly crested the rise in the path and the welcoming stone pillars came into view, Will smiled.

A screech owl hooted from a nearby pine branch, its amber eyes glowing at them in the dusk. Will gazed calmly back at the creature and nudged his daughter. "Lookit that, Jane."

When no reply came, he looked down to see the girl fast asleep in his arms. He shook his head lovingly and, without breaking stride, continued down the road toward home.

* * *

**A/N: This story's got one last chapter coming up, and if you've read this far I sincerely thank you for your interest (I fully understand that, due to their selection of atypical GWTW canon characters, my stories pay the price in popularity). A few inquiring reviewers asked this question at the beginning, and I'm pleased to tell you that yes, in the next chapter Aunty Scarlett (and a couple of others...) will be making an appearance! It shall be up as soon as I figure out how to end it. Until then...! -smarty**


	10. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Suellen saw them coming long before they reached the door. She stood at the drawing room window, watching the halting gait of an unmistakably lean figure slowly become larger and larger. When he reached the steps, she drew back behind the curtains. No sooner had Will mounted the porch and crossed to the heavy front door before it flung open.

Mrs. Benteen stood uncertainly before them, her harried eyes brimming with concern for the muddy bundle he held in his arms. Will glanced over her shoulder to see Jane's two older sisters, still clad in their riding habits, flanking their mother and gazing silently at Jane. Robert stood behind them in his nightshirt, skin bright red and hair still damp from his recent bath.

Suellen looked back and forth from Jane to Will, whose face was likewise dirty from all the mud drawn on it. Trembling, she reached out to take the child. "Is she all right?"

Will calmly nodded, aware of Jane's anxious siblings crowding around them as he transferred the dirty girl to her mother's arms. Now was hardly the time to disclose her daring fall. "I found her in the orchard."

Jane stirred, moaning a little as her father reached around to pry her hands loose from behind his neck.

"She doesn't sound all right!" Suellen cried, her voice rising in alarm.

"Don't get your Irish up, Sue," he murmured, folding the little girl's hands neatly on her lap. "Nothin's wrong. She's just tuckered out, is all." He laid a hand on her shoulder and waited for her to step aside before stumping into the hall, shrugging off his patched, gray coat.

Suellen motioned with her head for Susie to close the door, turning to show the sleeping girl to the children. "Your sister's home safe now. She's going to be all right."

Martha, gently tugging off her gloves, gazed down at her dirt-encrusted sister, her gray eyes soft with pity. "Mama, shall I run and tell Prissy to start another bath for her?"

"Yes, darling," Suellen whispered, and watched as the girl hurriedly flew up the stairs, her chestnut hair bouncing behind her.

She straightened as she felt Will standing at her shoulder. She moved a little to find his head bent over Jane, close to hers.

"What...?" She whispered worriedly.

Will eyed Susie and Robert soberly before glancing at her. "We'll talk later."

Biting her lip, Suellen nodded as her husband moved away. He took a candle from the hall and slowly began hauling himself up the stairs, lighting the way for Suellen and her precious cargo. Susie and Robert remained standing uncertainly by the door. Suellen gave them a knowing look as she passed, carefully carrying Jane upstairs. "To bed, children. It's after prayers."

* * *

Jane blinked frequently throughout her marathon bath, lost in the stupor that exists somewhere between sleep and consciousness. She was vaguely aware of her mother's gently scolding voice, of rough hands scrubbing the mud from her arms, and of her being lifted and tucked into bed. As soon as her head lay nestled against the pillow, she slipped back under the warm blanket of slumber.

Suellen tugged and straightened the quilts around the sleeping child, sighing heavily. "Oh, Jane, Jane. Whatever am I going to do with you?"

She drew back and gazed down at her daughter. The girl's head rested to one side against the pillow, one hand drawn up beside her face. Her austere gown, neatly pressed and laundered, shone an even brighter white against her peeling red skin. Her mother had managed to tame her wild mane, neatly plaiting it before tucking it all up under her nightcap. Her round face was so rosy, and her features so softened by sleep that she didn't seem half so monkey-like, Suellen mused. With the blankets drawn up about her chin, she seemed small, so very small and fragile.

The thought that the girl had very nearly slipped away from her forever suddenly re-entered Suellen's brain, drawing a long gasp from her immovable chest. Swiftly, she knelt down and kissed Jane's smooth brow.

As she straightened, gazing fondly at the girl, she suddenly remembered herself. Suellen huffed and shook her head, looking cross once more. She darted a furtive glance about the dark room, her hands nervously smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt. No sounds or movements came from the shadowy corners of the other two beds, save for the gentle, steady breathing of their occupants.

Satisfied, she nodded and blew out the single lit candle by Jane's bed. Treading carefully in the dark, she glided out the room and into the hall. She made nary a sound save for the rustle of her skirts. She pulled the door closed behind her and hastened her steps to the room at the far end of the aisle, quick to put physical distance between herself and her youngest daughter.

* * *

"Ouch!"

Jane frowned and shied away from Susie, who'd pulled back a little too sharply with one of Jane's unruly brown locks in her hand. The older girl huffed an impatient sigh and carefully began winding the tress around the hot roller she held in her other hand. "If you'd only hold still!"

"I'd be real still if you didn't keep hurting me!" Jane retorted, glowering from her seat at the foot of Susie's bed.

Martha smiled good-naturedly from her crouch on the floor, where she carefully hemmed the younger girl's skirt. Jane wore a lacy, blue taffeta gown that Martha had long outgrown and rediscovered that morning in the back of her closet. Every time Jane moved from Susie's yanking hands, her pain was aggravated by the many pins stuck in her as Martha labored to fit the dress to Jane's figure. "Now, Janey, you've got to be quiet. I thought you told us you wanted to look nice on Decoration Day."

Jane crossed her arms, but her expression softened. Martha's gentle, cheery smile never failed to put a damper on her sullen mood. "Well, I didn't know it was goin' to give you a reason to hurt me."

"Pooh. True beauty hurts," Susie sniffed, inclining her head as she held the curling rod tightly against her sister's skull. Prissy had already turned up her pale-blonde hair, the elegant style drawing attention away from its unbecoming hue. She seemed the embodiment of Spring in her pink checkered gingham, her skirts pillowed about her neatly. Though the dress was simple, it looked splendid on Susie, its neck dipping low to accentuate her buxom breasts. A ripe magnolia bud behind her ear served as her only accessory.

Martha, not yet out, looked far less fetching than her older sister, though no less beautiful. She'd donned her favorite gown, a well-worn violet muslin with a white crocheted collar fastened about her neck. She coveted the dress whenever a proper occasion arose, though was ashamed to feel a bit vain at the thought of it, for she knew violet was most flattering to her complexion. A belt of yellow roses adorned the midsection of her gown, accompanied by a couple of matching buds carefully woven into her hair. The auburn locks fell past her shoulders in neat, perfect coils that shimmered in the light of the early morning sun.

Jane's brow furrowed again, but she remained still. "I'll drop a bullfrog down your drawers!" She retorted crossly. Susie's stuffy airs always seemed to have a way of crawling under her skin and festering there.

Martha lifted a hand to her mouth to hide a giggle at Jane's remark.

"Shut up and stop being disgusting," Susie drawled dispassionately, releasing her quarry and beginning anew with another ratty tress.

"You can't make me!" Jane, still ruffled, could feel heat beginning to flame up into her cheeks. "I'll...I'll throw Brownie's straw on your dress!"

She closed her eyes, emitting a high pitched shriek as Susie roughly took a fistful of her mane and pulled back as hard as she could. "I'll burn your hair off, you little wench!"

"Martha!" Jane entreated, clawing at Susie's vengeful grasp.

Her mediator reached out and laid an anxious hand on Susie's arm. "Quit it, both of you!"

Susie relaxed her grip, temporarily quieting Jane. "That warn't no more than you deserved," she sneered. "Now, for the last time, _be still!"_

Jane reluctantly did as she was told, grumbling and growling in protest.

Outside their window, the sharp clicking of the sickle could be heard as Big Sam chopped the grass surrounding the family burial plot. Dilcey and their mother's companion, Ludie, washed the markers clean of dirt, grime, and bird dung with rags and soapy water while Pork followed them with a sharpened knife. Despite the misery in his back, he knelt carefully in front of each one and etched deeper through the engraved letters so that the weathered stones remained legible. Dilcey's and Ludie's grown sons, Lucius and Silas, worked to repair the creaky fence line bordering the graves. Will was gone, having left earlier that morning for Jonesboro to meet Aunty Scarlett's train. Suellen, Prissy and Delilah, Big Sam's wife, bustled about in the kitchen downstairs, hurriedly making all the final preparations for the family's supper.

Martha finished sewing up the hem of Jane's dress and bit off the excess thread. Pinching the needle between her lips, she removed the unnecessary tacks and gestured with her hand. "Stand up, please, Jane. I have to take in the waist, yet."

Jane sighed and clambered to her feet, Susie lifting her hands and rising to kneel behind her. Martha likewise stood and knotted her thread. Tugging down the sky blue ribbon encircling the dress low enough to reveal the seam, she bent her head close and began threading her needle through the fabric. "Now raise your arms for me."

Jane stretched them high over her head, groaning softly. "This ain't comfy."

"Oh, hush. We're nearly finished," Susie muttered. She peeped around Jane's raised arm and grinned at Martha. "Won't everyone be surprised when they see what we've done with her?"

"Oh, Susie, you make it sound so scandalous!" Martha cried, not taking her eyes off her diligent work. "I think they'll be pleased." She lifted her head and straightened the dress, smiling up at her little sister. "I should think Jane will be pleased most of all."

Jane glowed with pride, puffing herself up importantly.

"Of course she should! Now cousin Ella shall be the ugliest one of the party today." Susie smirked. "Even old Aunty Scarlett will have to admit that we're better turned out than her girls."

Martha gasped. "Susie, what an awful thing to say!"

"I don't care." The older girl inclined her head. "I don't like Aunty Scarlett. She's so horrid to Mama."

"I know." Martha looked down and continued threading her needle through the seam. "I don't like it, either, but that ain't no reason to think ill of her. Matthew tells us..."

"Hang Matthew! I detest our dear Aunty, and I don't care if she knows it!" Susie released Jane's curl and separated another lock. "I do like cousin Ella, though, even if she is homely."

Jane fidgeted uncomfortably. "Can I put my arms down?"

"No," the sisters replied at the same time.

Susie shrugged. "In any case, this will at least give us all cause to be proud of our Jane, even if she is a barbarian."

Jane colored at the remark and swiftly turned her head. She snapped at the first of her sister's fingers that spun into view.

"Aaarrgh!" Susie screeched, shying away from the girl. She tucked the roller under her arm and cradled her injured hand in the other.

Martha looked up in astonishment. "What on earth...?"

"She bit me!" Susie sobbed, holding her hand out to display the wound as Martha reached up to inspect it. She turned her head away disconsolately. "The little beast bit me!"

"Ha!" Jane cried. She clasped her hands together high over her head and smiled, immensely pleased with herself.

"Why, the skin ain't even broke." Martha scoffed gently, moving back to her position on the floor.

Susie drew her arm back and closely examined the damage. "What does that matter? I have teeth marks on my finger!"

Martha sighed gently. "Oh, Susie. They'll be gone by the time we're finished with Jane. It's better off forgotten."

"Yeah!" Jane sneered, twisting her neck to give her sister a snide look. The older girl frowned sullenly and resumed her rough hair-yanking with visibly more force.

"Humph," Susie sniffed. "You're bein' awfully disagreeable today."

"I _feel _like bein' disagreeable," Jane huffed. "My arms hurt."

"Just a minute or two longer, I promise!" Martha declared, speeding up her needlework with renewed vigor.

"I was actually paying you a compliment," Susie said haughtily. "If I was any more blunt, I'd tell you that poking your nose where it don't belong, attacking people and throwing them into walls, acting like a boy and spoiling your clothes are the reasons why you're so impossible to like."

"Arrgh!" Jane roared, feeling the dejected pang of her sister's remark hitting that all-too-sore note. How _dare _Susie insinuate that nobody liked her? She bridled fiercely at the defamatory remarks. "Yeah?" She spat, enraged. "Well, at least I don't bang goats!"

Susie opened her mouth, a hot reply ready on her tongue, when Martha surprisingly jumped to her aid. "Come now, Jane. Mind your temper. She didn't really mean nothing by what she said."

Jane turned to Martha with a wounded look, feeling as though her best ally had betrayed her for the enemy. "You hush up!" She snapped. "Or I'll tell Mama that you wrote 'Mrs. Joseph Fontaine' all over the back of your primer!"

"Oh!" Martha covered her mouth, the color draining from her face. Her gray eyes grew large and round in horror.

Susie purposely singed Jane's ear with the roller, causing her to yelp shrilly. She frowned down at the girl. "Jane, you're terrible! You know better than to tease Sissy about Little Joe! What were you doing with her primer, anyhow?"

"I picked it up by mistake!" Jane sobbed, cupping her blazing ear with both hands.

"You did not! You were bein' a sneak!" Susie declared. "I'd tell Mama on you, if it wouldn't give Sissy away! How would you like it if we decided to make fun of your beau someday?"

"He ain't my beau," Martha whispered softly.

"I won't have one!" Jane retorted, standing up straighter. "I don't like boys, and I don't want them to like me. Ever!"

Susie rolled her eyes. "Stop actin' so silly. You'll like boys someday, and you'll marry one of them. With a miracle, you'll marry well. Don't you ever listen to Mama? Why, every girl has to be married someday. It's her only way to secure her future happiness."

"I don't want to be married. I don't want a man huggin' me, and tellin' me pretty things, and kissin' me. Yuck!" Jane wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out.

"Poor Jane," Martha murmured, gently pulling the remaining tacks out of the dress and returning them to her pincushion. Her eyes held a dreamy, faraway look. "No romance in her at all."

Susie sneered down at her sister's brown head. "You like boys enough to play with them. Climbing trees, running footraces, swearing, and making a public disgrace of yourself!"

"Boys are my friends. They ain't so silly the way girls are. I'm better at their games, anyway. Boys' games are much more fun. I wisht I was a boy," Jane muttered wistfully.

"But you're a girl. A girl that's almost a young lady," Susie replied sharply. "And as such, you ought to start conducting yourself so. Actin' like a boy ain't no way to catch a husband."

"Good!" Jane jutted her chin out, smiling defiantly.

Susie shook her head in frustration. "You're a strange one, Jane."

"That's Miss Jane to you!" She retorted in a perfect imitation of Susie's pretentious drawl, balling her fists and placing them on her hips.

"Hmm." Susie released Jane's last curl and sat back to survey her work. A dissatisfied frown puckered her face. "It don't look like it should."

Martha looked up from her sewing kit at her sister's work. Concern clouded her expression as her mouth formed a round O. "Susie, what did you do? We can't take her downstairs like that!"

"Well, it's not my fault! It's her ugly hair," Susie murmured disparagingly. "It deflects all attempts to be beautiful."

"What? What she do?" Jane cried in concern, reaching up to run her hands through her hair. All she felt was a thick mass of springy curls. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Janey." Martha absently patted the girl's arm before flying over to her bureau drawer. "I think I know how to fix it."

"You meanie!" Jane shot her oldest sister a dirty look. "I bet you did this on purpose!"

Susie stuck her tongue out in reply.

"Jane, watch what you say!" Martha hurried back to kneel at the foot of the bed, carrying a light blue ribbon in her fingers. "It's vulgar to reference somethin' so sinful as gambling." She reached under Jane's hair and tugged the ribbon up around the back of her head. She pushed the unruly curls away from Jane's face and tied the ribbon into a neat bow on top of her crown, smiling warmly. "There. That's much better."

Jane beamed at Martha sweetly.

"Hand me her necklace, Sissy, and I'll fasten it," Susie murmured, reaching around Jane curtly.

Martha carefully handed up the collar fashioned from a chain of bright, fresh daisies that had been sitting on the girls' dressing table. She held the delicate ends in her fingers, slowly passing them over to her sister's hands.

Susie flipped up Jane's curls and pulled the flowers snugly against the girl's throat. She sniffed loudly as she knotted the fibrous stems together at the base of her neck. "I don't see why we even bother with these when Ella and Cat will just waltz in here wearin' the finest gold and silver bangles you've ever seen. They make us look so poor and shabby."

Martha boldly lifted her head, her soft gray eyes oddly bright. _"I _think Mama's flowers are far lovelier than any metal trinket."

"So do I," Jane added snidely. In truth, she didn't care much at all for flowers, or for jewelry. But Martha did, and as she'd been so nice as to fix Jane's hair with the ribbon, Jane sought to repay her kindness by taking her side.

"Humph," Susie muttered piously. "You both may remain content with being destitute all your lives, while I shall become a lady of great wealth _and_ reputation. Mama never did, but I shall." She finished fastening the necklace and got up from the bed. She padded around to stand next to Martha, inspecting their final product. "Well, Sissy, what do you think?"

Martha smiled and clasped her hands together serenely. "She's just darlin'!"

"Yes," Susie gazed at Jane thoughtfully. "Who would have ever supposed there actually _was _a comely girl under all that grime?"

"Our wild, wonderful Calamity Jane is now respectable."

Susie laughed. "I don't think we could sell her to that rough-and-ready western show now. We ought to call this one our little Lady Jane."

"I want to see! I want to see!" Jane hopped up and down impatiently on the bed.

The sisters met eyes and exchanged a smile. "Of course." Susie arched a brow and lifted her arm expansively. "Little sister, meet Lady Jane."

The girls stepped away, leaving Jane to face her reflection in the bureau dresser mirror. Instantly, the girl drew in a loud gasp of awe and delight. She broke into a wide smile, her face alight with amazement as she gaped at the sight before her. "I'm pretty!"

The old indigo dress, accented with pale blue trim and puffed up with fragile-looking lace, had been a perfect match for Jane's mischievous blue eyes. Martha had fitted it well, the skirt's hem falling just above Jane's starched crinoline. The ribbon tied around her waist and gathered in the back matched the smaller bow on top of Jane's head. Her riotous mane had been transformed into a bunch of thick, unmanageable brown curls. Some were short, nearly sticking out straight from her head; some were long, hanging down at her shoulders; still others were every length in between. The bow kept them pulled back away from her face, framing her head and shoulders with a silky, luxurious brown cloud. The daisies at her neck were, indeed, a lovely touch. She delightedly curtsied to the girl in the mirror, feeling very delicate and ladylike.

Those emotions evaporated, however, when she whirled around to see Martha's pleased face. Her heart suddenly swelled, fit to burst, as she threw her arms around her older sister. "Oh, thank you!"

Martha hardly had a chance to return the embrace before Susie reached out and tore her away. "Don't crumple your dress before anyone's even seen you!" She frowned and tugged the folds of Jane's gown in an attempt to smooth it, clearly irritated.

"I'll do what I want, Miss Big Pig!" Jane retorted snottily.

Susie rolled her eyes. "I guess it don't matter how she looks on the outside. She's still our same nasty little Jane."

Below, the distant sound of voices in the receiving hall alerted the girls' attention.

Martha sighed. "Come on, you two." She took Jane's hand as the girl slid to the floor. "Let's greet our visitors."

* * *

"You'd hardly believe the crowds there in New York," Scarlett O'Hara said to Will, her face flushed, as they ascended the steps onto Tara's front porch. "It's such a lively place. I rather like it, for all that it is a Yankee city." She was nattily dressed in a trim emerald gown accented with gold brocade and fawn-colored gloves. Her dark brown hair had been separated into becoming ringlets elegantly stacked on top of her head. Three dark plumes curved out from the back of her charming scrap of a hat. Still clinging to Will's arm, she lifted the hem of her skirts as she climbed, displaying flashy cream-colored gaiters buttoned up over her well-oiled leather boots. Though nearing forty, Scarlett appeared just as sensuous and beguiling as ever. Her two daughters followed them silently.

"Graduation exercises went well?" Will murmured, awkwardly swinging up the stairs beside her.

"Yes." Scarlett beamed, fluttering her bright green eyes delightedly. "Oh, Will, you've never seen anything so grand. All the speeches, parades, and gun salutes. Wade looked so handsome in his dress uniform. Fifteenth in his class, proud boy."

"Proud mama, I reckon."

She looked at him sharply, her gaze hardened. "I know what you're thinking. And I'm perfectly pleased with the way he turned out, in spite of the sort of mother I've been. Have you heard me claim any of his credit?"

Will stared at the porch and shook his head. "No'm." He certainly didn't need nor want Scarlett riled right before meeting her sister. The intensity of Scarlett's Irish wrath, when sufficiently stoked, made Suellen's tantrums look like the yowls of an angry kitten.

Appeased, Scarlett tossed her head, a scowl still written plainly across her rosy lips. "Fiddle-dee-dee. I should think not."

Will sighed noiselessly. "Anyhow, I'm glad for him." He mostly remembered Scarlett's son, Wade Hampton Hamilton, as being a scared little boy with large, doe-like eyes and a high, whining voice. He didn't resemble his mother in the least, and Will had gathered from the boy's curly brown hair and soft, effeminate features an image of how his father must have looked. He recalled Scarlett having remarked disparagingly on occasion that her first husband, Charles, had been something of a sissy. Young Wade had reinforced that impression, whimpering at loud noises and bursting into tears at the mere mention of Yankees. Yet, despite the neglect and terror his young mother had inflicted upon him, Wade had grown up into a strong, quiet, capable and mannered young gentleman. He had dreamed nearly all his life of becoming a brave soldier like his father, his mother never having the heart to tell him Charles had died of illness before ever seeing action. And so, he had worked earnestly the past four years through West Point Military Academy, becoming the great soldier his father never was.

"I'll send the cadet my congratulations," Will murmured presently, pausing to open Tara's great front door.

"It's Second Lieutenant Hamilton now, of the United States Army." Scarlett smiled. "He left for Washington to receive his commission right before I met my train. I'm happy he's earned such a fitting career for himself, though I never will get used to the sight of him in a Federal uniform." She shuddered involuntarily and paused, standing composed in the doorway, as she came face-to-face with her younger sister. "Suellen."

"Scarlett," she replied, her tone equally cold. She wore an austere, matronly red frock, augmented by yellow jessamine buds over her shoulder and at her waist. Her golden curls were pulled up in a clean bun and their mother's earbobs dangled at her cheeks. Her bright blue eyes smoldered, her mouth set in a prim frown as she glowered at her sister.

Scarlett crossed the threshold and stepped into the hall, never taking her eyes off Suellen. Her voice, like her movements, was carefully restrained. "You look well."

"Likewise." Suellen lifted her chin, rising to meet her sister's silent challenge. "I see mossy old Ireland agrees with you."

"Naturally." Scarlett's green eyes flashed. "Just as Tara's made you agreeably old and fat."

Suellen sucked in a sharp breath, bristling at the remark. It was true, she'd grown a little plump over the course of her married life, and though only thirty-eight, possessed more wrinkles and lines than the year-older Scarlett. Yet, despite their honesty, she fully felt the sting of her sister's words.

Suellen stood very still and stared at her. There were a few things she could say about Scarlett, too. She opened her mouth, a sharp retort ready at the back of her tongue, when she heard a noisy cough.

She looked up to see Will in the doorway, dressed in his old brown tweed suit and carrying Scarlett's reticule. She met his pale gaze and quivered as the lecture he'd administered to her last night suddenly sprang to her mind:

_"You ain't goin' to light into Scarlett the minute she steps into this house. You ain't goin' to ruin the holiday, them children's stay, or her stay by squabblin' together like a couple of peahens."_

_ "But Will," _she'd sobbed, _"you don't understand. She..."_

_ "I know what she does, and I ain't sayin' you don't got the right to hold that against her." _He'd stared at her long and hard until she began squirming like a scolded child. _"But I know you're just as guilty. And I ain't goin' to have you take out your childish feelin's on this entire farm. I've put up with it in the past. No more."_

She'd crossed her arms and sat back against the pillows, pouting forlornly. _"Scarlett doesn't care. As soon as she walks in here, she'll start it all over again. And..."_

_ "Then just let her. This has got to stop somewhere. I don't have no say nor care for what Scarlett does. But I do have a say for you. And I'm tellin' you this. Let her try to get a rise out of you all she wants. You ain't goin' to fight her."_

Suellen had sniffed and moved away from him to the opposite end of the bed. _"Humph. And what if I do, Will Benteen?"_

The look he'd given her suggested that she didn't want to know his answer.

She blinked a couple of times and frowned, trying hard to swallow her inflammatory reply. "Thank you," she finally managed to mutter hoarsely. Will turned his head and stepped aside so Lucius could get by with Scarlett's trunk.

Scarlett cocked her head, her brow furrowed in bemusement, when a small movement at Suellen's side arrested her attention. She looked down and smiled to see the Benteens' little son dart behind the protection of his mother's skirts. She gracefully stooped to gaze at the boy. "Well, if it isn't Master Robert. Come say hello to your Aunty Scarlett."

The child, dressed in his pressed dark broadcloth, whimpered and pulled one of Suellen's red ruffles against his face. He was terribly shy in the presence of strangers, and Robert considered every person he didn't see daily around the farm a stranger. Suellen's earnest attempts to groom him into a proper country gentleman had so far been in vain; the boy had even less social aptitude than his father had. Of Scarlett he was especially afraid. The lavish attentions she seemed to fixate upon him intimidated and frightened him beyond words. He viewed her as a sort of witch, who wanted only to draw him in with sweet words so she could devour him for her next meal. Little did he know the true reason for his aunt's affection; she had consigned her part ownership of Tara to her lawyer uncle Henry Hamilton's care with the instruction that it be turned over to the boy when he became of proper age. Having given him the most precious legacy she'd ever known, Scarlett desperately wished to place herself in the little heir's esteem. So far, however, all her efforts toward friendship had been repulsed.

Suellen, her face flushed, murmured an apology before turning to glare down at her son. "Robert, dear, remember your manners!" She reached out and snatched her skirts from the little boy's grasp. Emitting an exasperated sigh, she smoothed his wavy golden locks with one hand. "There you go again. Don't muss up your hair after Prissy just combed it. Now, be a polite little gentleman and kiss your Aunty Scarlett."

He pleadingly met her gaze, his large blue eyes filling with tears. His lip quivered fearfully, causing his angular chin to tremble. Ignoring him, Suellen took his hand and yanked him in the direction of his aunt.

"Come here, precious." Scarlett reached out her gloved hands and drew the boy into a tight embrace. He wriggled uncomfortably against it, his arms pinned down firmly at his sides, but managed to turn his head and give her a lightning-quick peck on the cheek. After what seemed to be the longest moment in his life, she finally relaxed her grip, holding up his chin with one hand. "My, how he's grown! He looks so much like Will, only prettier." She casually flicked her gaze up at Suellen. "I don't know who's responsible for that. His looks certainly didn't come from his mother."

Suellen clenched her fists at her sides and seemed to be sputtering hotly under her breath.

Scarlett released her hold and smiled winningly at the child. "And what, may I ask, has my favorite nephew been getting up to?"

He regarded her blankly, his tongue frozen in fear. His gaze bore into her laughing green eyes, which seemed to contain far more than simple kindness. They were piercing him, analyzing him, judging his every move. It was all he could do to dumbly open his mouth.

"Robert E. Lee!" His mother shrieked, swatting his shoulder. "Answer Aunty when she speaks to you!"

He emitted a low, tremulous cry, a single tear escaping down his cheek.

Suellen frowned crossly, ready to scream again when another voice cut her off.

"Robert's a little man now, Scarlett," Will intervened, awkwardly hunkering down beside the pair. He gave his son a long look. "And little men don't cry when company's come, do they, Robert?"

The boy furtively shook his head and wiped his nose, blinking his eyes rapidly. "No, sir," he mumbled.

"You'd be surprised how much he can do around the farm now," Will continued. "Robert knows all there is to keepin' the barn in order. Ain't that right, son?"

He nodded, staring down at his shoes. "Yeah," he uttered so quietly no one hardly heard it.

"And just the other day, I took him out to the pastures and worked him with his knots. He can hogtie real well now, Scarlett. Reckon he's goin' to be a mighty help with the branding next spring. And when harvesting time come last December, Robert was out there pickin' faster than Big Sam, even."

Scarlett raised her dark brows at the child, her face alight with rapture. "Great balls of fire! Our little boy can do all that?"

Will nodded sagely. "And he just keeps gettin' abler with each passin' day." He turned back to his son. "Boy, run and get that piece of baling twine so's you can show Aunty Scarlett your knots."

"Yessir," Robert muttered gratefully and dashed up the stairs.

Scarlett stood and watched him go, shaking her head. "Such a scared little mouse. And to think, this will all be his someday."

"He's only eight years old!" Suellen snapped.

Will calmly held up his hand. "Simmer down, now, Sue. Scarlett makes a good point. He's still got a lot of growin' left to do."

Scarlett gave her sister a triumphant look. Suellen sneered back nastily. "Humph. Well, I do know one thing; if that boy's manners don't improve, I'm going to put him in a dress and ship him off to charm school."

Robert was stopped near the top of the stairs, his path blocked by his descending sisters. They stood three abreast, with Jane in the middle holding one hand from each. They paused as Robert drew back, hurtling to a halt to barely avoid a collision.

"What are _you _doing? Aren't you supposed to be downstairs?" Susie drawled disdainfully.

But Robert didn't answer her. He silently regarded Jane, eyes wide. When she smiled at him, he squeaked and drew back against Martha's skirts.

"Who is she?" He whispered fearfully when she bent her head close.

Martha grinned and gently patted his head. "Oh, silly boy. It's only your sister Jane."

Robert tentatively stepped out and took a long look at the dark-haired girl. "No, she ain't."

Jane huffed angrily and frowned. She drew her hands out of her sisters' grasp and balled them firmly at her hips. "Yes, I am!"

He slowly shook his head, still gawking at her. "Uh-uh. No way."

"What do you mean? I am, too!" She snarled, grabbing hold of his collar. "I can be a pretty lady, too, Robert E. Lee! And I am, I am, I am!"

"Jane! Put him down!" Martha cried, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. Susie rolled her eyes and drew back against the stairwell.

The boy gaped up at her, opening and closing his mouth. His clear blue eyes were wide with fear and astonishment. "It...it is you," he murmured breathlessly.

Jane yanked his face up to hers so their noses touched. "Say I'm Miss Jane and I'm a nice lady," she growled. The boy's lower lip quivered tremulously.

Martha grimaced and shook her sister's arm. "Please, Jane! This is very unbecoming!"

Susie smoothed the folds of her skirt and sighed. "She certainly can't act like a nice lady, can she?"

"Say it!" Jane cried, shaking the boy. "Or I'll shove your head right through the banister!"

"Y-you're Miss Jane, an'...and you're a nice lady," he squeaked softly.

Jane suddenly beamed at him and gently set him down. "You're wrong, Susie," she murmured, straightening her brother's clothes. "I'm a very nice lady. Robert thinks so. Don't you, Robert?"

He nodded, his eyes darting nervously from one sister to another. "Umm-hmm."

"Pah!" Susie scowled at the girl, but refrained from speaking when she caught Martha's warning look. With an annoyed little huff, she pinned on a prim smile. "Of course, he does."

Jane curtsied to her brother and motioned for Martha to step aside with her, smiling at him sweetly. "Thank you, Master Robert. You may go by now."

Seeing his chance, he scurried past his sisters and paused at the top of the stair. Safe on his perch, he looked back down at the girls and shook his head. "She sure looks funny, though."

"Ignore him." Martha took up her sister's hand once more and composed herself gracefully. "Now, let's go."

As they descended, they came upon their parents and Aunty Scarlett in the receiving hall, Will and Suellen each fawning over the girls' cousins. Their mother crouched next to the younger, Katie Colum "Kitty Cat" O'Hara, smiling and nodding solicitously to what the girl said.

"...Cat thought that wasn't very nice. And the train went on forever and ever. Cat didn't think it was ever going to stop. But Mommy bought Cat this bracelet in that busy York place, so Cat played with that when Cat got bored," the girl, who was a mere six months younger than Jane, said demurely as she held out her wrist for Aunty Suellen to admire. Black hair neatly curled about her shoulders and olive skin shimmering exotically against her periwinkle gown, the bastard child of Rhett Butler was as comely and graceful as a girl her age could be. Her dark complexion, paired with the most becoming dresses her mother could find, made her a lovely sight to behold. People old and young felt drawn to her by her whimsical charm, and she in turn dealt with them fairly, by nature ever honest and observant. She herself favored the company of animals and curious places. Yet, despite her adventurous spirit, she tried her best to heed her mother and return before falling into too much trouble. In fact, her only fault lie in her reverting to speak in third person whenever she was nervous, bashful, or agitated.

"And then Mommy reminded Cat that you have animals here, and that made Cat very glad. Where is Boo? Cat likes Boo," she presently lifted her head, looking around for the dog.

Suellen rolled her eyes at the mention of their accursed hound. "I'm sure he's around here someplace."

Across the space of the hall, Will likewise conversed with the oldest of Scarlett's girls, Ella Lorena Kennedy. The eighteen-year-old daughter of Scarlett's second husband and Suellen's former lover, Frank, was as plain as her sister was beautiful. Her stringy ginger hair, tucked up into her hairnet and hidden beneath her bonnet, did little to flatter her rabbity face. She had discerning eyes and a sharp, hawkish nose. Much like her father, she was timid by nature and said very little. But when she did muster up enough courage to say a few words, they were usually worth listening to. For all that she was ugly, she possessed incredible good sense and sound judgment. Like Scarlett, she felt the only person she could be perfectly honest and frank with was Will, who'd always been kind and understanding to her, even when her mother and aunty had not. She'd been Susie's bosom playmate when the girls were younger, being similar in age, and their unlikely friendship had continued into adulthood. Susie loved nothing more than to promenade about the county with her dear cousin at her side, for the sake of appearances as much as companionship; when paired together, Susie appeared ever more so the attractive maiden, while Ella simply looked an old maid.

"...Yes," Will murmured, shifting his weight to his wooden leg, "I'd heard tell of them darkies settin' up a doctorin' practice in Atlanta. Now, Sue and the children were nursed by darkies all their lives, which is much the same as doctorin', I reckon. Guess it's only fair they set up paid business, since we pay our nurses. But this Lynch feller gettin' elected a chair for that damned Republican party?" He shook his head. "That darkie ain't no more than the carpetbaggers' stooge."

Ella arched a brow. "At the rate they're going, it won't be long before one of their kind is president."

"Ain't that the truth," Will grumbled. "Well, it won't be me that votes 'em. I could if I wanted to, but the way them Yanks acted after the War just burns me up. They can have their damned oath. I don't want no part of their laws. And I don't care if I don't never vote again."

"Apparently, the darkies have more sense for politics than women," Ella replied. "I cannot vote, either."

"That's hogwash." Will smiled and touched her shoulder. "You alone's got more sense than fifty men put together."

Ella looked down and fiddled with her handbag. "Thank you kindly, Uncle Will."

"Ella!"

Will turned his head to see his three resplendent daughters reach the bottom of the stairs and descend upon the company.

"Susie!" Ella cried as her cousin darted over and drew her into a warm hug. For all of Susie's pettiness and Ella's practicality, the girls did share a genuine affection for one another.

They drew back and held each other at arm's length, hands clasped firmly in each other's. "Oh, dear, you continue to grow more beautiful," Ella gushed.

Susie beamed and took in her cousin's brown silky gown with creamy accents and silver jewels. "Darling, that dress wouldn't become anyone but you." Bending her head close, she drew her arm across Ella's shoulders and led her out into the drawing room. "How I've missed you! It's been so long. There's so much I have to tell you! Say, how long were you in Atlanta?"

Ella smiled and lowered her voice accordingly. "Only for an hour or two while we waited to change trains."

"Did you happen to see the offices of a Dr. Johnston when you were there? I heard tell he's set up practice on Peachtree Street, right close to the depot."

"Really? I don't believe I saw it. Do tell!"

Susie grinned conspiratorially. "Well, he's rich, under thirty, and, best of all, a bachelor..."

Martha gracefully tread up to the adults, beaming cheerfully. "Hello, Aunty Scarlett. It's wonderful to see you again," she said, bobbing a curtsy to her aunt before standing on tiptoe to kiss her father's cheek in greeting. "Daddy."

"Now I remember," Scarlett murmured lowly, nodding in turn to the girl. "Martha always was your only child to have any propriety at all."

But Suellen hardly heard her. She stood stock still with her mouth slightly agape, her gaze incredulous and her face ashen. She stared at something behind Martha that her sister and husband could not yet see.

"Mama, what's wrong?" Martha looked at her worriedly before gesturing to the object of her mother's shock. "Come, Jane. Say hello to Aunty Scarlett and Cousin Cat."

The figure took a few wobbly, uncertain steps around her sister before lifting the ends of her skirts and dipping a shaky curtsy before her relative. "Hello, Aunty Scarlett."

Scarlett breathed in a sharp gasp, her green eyes alight with amazement, as if seeing her youngest niece for the first time. This was not the dirty, annoying little monkey she'd been accustomed to on previous visits. With her hair curled and her dress dainty, the girl resembled a faint image of her aunt in days gone by.

"God's nightgown!" She exclaimed, once again lowering herself to gaze into the girl's bright blue eyes. She opened and closed her mouth several times, for once at a loss for words. "It's incredible," she finally breathed.

Jane, overcoming her bashfulness, tucked her hands together behind her back and swayed in place. She smiled delightedly at the reactions she'd managed to solicit. "I'm Miss Jane!" She cried proudly.

"Y-yes, I know," Scarlett stammered haltingly. "I just - I never realized that - what a beautiful girl you are."

"Any girl can be beautiful, Aunty," Jane replied, sidling closer. "But I'm beautiful _and _tough. That's why I'm Miss Jane."

Martha gazed down at her affectionately. "I think 'forceful' would be the better word for you, Janey."

The girl placed her fists on her hips and frowned up at her sister. "I am too tough! Why else is Pork helpin' me put up the new fence in the swamp? That's little man's work, you know," she added as an aside to Scarlett.

"You know why, Janey. Because you broke..."

" 'Dear diary,'" Jane interrupted, giving her sister a hard stare, " 'I only dream of being Mrs. Little J-"

Martha hastily clapped a hand over the girl's mouth, biting her lip in alarm. "All right, Jane. You're plenty tough."

The girl threw off her sister's hand and smoothed her dress. "That's what I thought," she sniffed, tossing her curls so they bounced boisterously about her shoulders. "A little lady can build a fence just as good as a little man can."

"Oh, Suellen, she's marvelous," Scarlett breathed to her sister. She straightened, her green eyes glimmering with approbation.

The girl's mother could still do nothing but stare in horror at the child, feeling as though she were about to faint.

"What's a swamp?" Cat piped up curiously, sidling over to her cousin.

"It's where we keep the pigs," Jane replied matter-of-factly.

"Pigs!" Cat's face lit up at the mention of critters. "What sort of pigs?"

"A big mama sow and her litter. They're just little babies." Jane smiled. "I saw them borned, you know. I watched from the barn rafters."

Will coughed and the girl glanced at her father. She reddened slightly. "Only I ain't supposed to go up in the rafters no more, cause that's a right dangerous thing to do."

He gave her a nod, and the girl turned back to her cousin.

"Piggies!" Cat clapped her hands together, her excitement finally overcoming her timidity. "May I go see them?"

"Of course." Jane took Cat's arm and led her away into the drawing room. "We're keepin' them in the barn until the fence is all built..."

At that moment, Robert darted back down the stairs, swinging his piece of twine. "Look," he said simply, holding it up in front of his aunt.

"Well, Master Robert, are you going to show me your knots?" Scarlett asked, clutching the boy by the shoulders and leading him after the girls.

He silently nodded, eyes cast toward the ground.

"Tell me, how many do you know?"

"Well," he mumbled softly, "there's the slipknot, and the bowline, and the carrick bend, and the clove hitch..."

Left alone in the hall, Suellen finally lifted her shocked gaze to meet her husband's eyes.

He stared at her emotionlessly. "You know who she takes after, don't you?"

"Don't say it!" She cried, squeezing her eyes shut.

He shifted his weight back to his foot. "Takin' after her Grandpa Gerald ain't nothin' to be ashamed of."

Suellen blew out her held breath and crossly took Will's arm. "Come on." She glared at him warningly before looking straight ahead. "Let's see they're settled so we can get on with this."

* * *

Boo barked and bounded awkwardly around the perimeter of the cemetery, still wound up from his recent romp with the girls. Suellen turned her head and shot the hound a nasty look before returning to the task of placing flowers along her mother's grave. "Pork, take that stupid dog away from here."

"Yas'm," the old Negro replied. He shuffled toward the dog, shoulders rolled forward and back stooped. Boo whined and darted off toward the old cabins when Pork raised his arms, waving them over his head. "Go'wan! Git! Git!"

Suellen felt the heat of someone's stare boring into her and looked up to see Will blankly shaking his head in her direction. She swiftly turned away and lifted her nose in the air, choosing to ignore him. She plucked a few large marigolds from the large collection of flowers grouped at the base of the stone and began binding them together for a crown along the marker's top. "Mother always loved marigolds," she murmured softly.

Scarlett paused and sat up from where she'd been arranging red roses along the base of Mammy's grave. The family's faithful, beloved domestic reposed in death beside Miss Ellen, her ward from infancy. Scarlett turned toward her sister, her face stormy.

Suellen flinched, grimacing. She knew she shouldn't have said anything. Scarlett always got so cross every time Mother's name was mentioned. In the years immediately following Ellen's death, Suellen had been slapped by her sister whenever she'd tried to invoke their mother's memory. Presently, she braced herself for another blow.

To her surprise, however, Scarlett's features softened as she reached over to brush the flowers' golden petals. "She did, didn't she? Mammy used to tell us that she wore them in her hair on the day she married Pa."

Suellen relaxed and smiled fondly. "Oh, I can picture Mother now with marigolds in her hair, wearing her beautiful satin gown. The same gown I wore when I married Will..."

"And I wore when I married Charlie," Scarlett finished. "Weren't those giant hoops a fright?"

"They were massive! I don't know how Mother ever did it. I kept bumping into things and tripping over floorboards. I had trouble even fitting through doorways!" Suellen cried. "I could hardly move around in that dress!"

"Neither could I!" Scarlett laughed, sitting back and gazing at Ellen's stone while Suellen crowned the marker with marigolds. "She used to have a tea set with those flowers on it, do you remember? It was one of the few things she brought with her from Savannah. She always laid it out when company called. We learned our table etiquette with that set."

"Oh, yes!" Suellen clasped her hands together and laughed. "Do you remember the time Carreen upset her saucer and broke one of the cups?"

"Do I! I can't remember a time when Mother was more upset with us. Carreen had been reading one of her silly romance novels again. _Horse-Shoe Robinson, _I think it was."

Suellen nodded. "Once she stuck her nose in a book, it was impossible to pull her back out."

"Right. She hurried straight through tea because she couldn't wait to get back to her reading. And when she leaped up from her chair, she knocked over her cup and it broke into five or six pieces on the floor. Mother turned absolutely red..."

"And she made Carreen walk around the house for the rest of the day with _Horse-Shoe Robinson _balanced on her head!" Suellen cried, bending her head close as the sisters burst into laughter.

Will, who'd watched them from under hooded lids, smiled evenly. He was kneeling awkwardly on the ground, decorating the grave that had cast a long shadow over the occasion of his marriage. He wiped his hands on his brown tweed jacket and lowered his head to straighten a row of zinnias along Gerald O'Hara's stone. "Look at your girls, Pa," he mumbled softly. "I reckon they's goin' to be just fine."

Along the row behind the adults, the girls worked diligently in pairs. Martha and Ludie's daughter, Bess, carefully patted and packed the dirt around the brightly colored posies they'd planted in front of Martha's uncles, all of them named Gerald. Martha found herself drawn to the sad little infants' graves every Decoration Day, and worked hard to create beautiful flower tributes for the lives barely lived. Robert decorated on the other side of her, doing everything his older sisters directed him to do. Martha reached over and patted his shoulder from time to time.

Susie and Ella sat atop the stone wall surrounding the cemetery, talking and twirling pansies in their hands. Susie, far more comfortable with bossing others around than with risking beads of sweat dampening her pretty porcelain skin, made her contribution by occasionally turning her head and barking an order at Robert. The rest of the time, she idly traded gossip with Cousin Ella in low, hushed tones.

Jane and Cat, working together, had haphazardly created a bright, garish display for the grave of the unknown Confederate soldier buried in the cemetery. The boy, no older than fifteen, had been brought to Tara in the months following the surrender unconscious and terribly ill. He had died without ever regaining consciousness. The girls had furnished the site with flowers of red, white and blue, draping a Confederate flag over the mound before his blank marker. Their task finished, the girls chased each other in a game of tag outside the cemetery. After all, they had nothing more to do until the family held prayers around the graves and their mothers readied the picnic luncheon.

Cat suddenly halted and gazed up in wonder as a bright blue jaybird flew over the girls. "Wow. What a pretty bird!"

Jane watched the jay disappear into the top of a pomegranate tree in the orchard. "Oh, him? That's just an ol' jaybird," she scoffed. "If you want to watch a real neat bird, you ought to see our owl."

Cat's eyes widened in rapture. "A owl? You really have a owl?"

Jane nodded. "I know right where he lives, too."

"I love owls!" Cat squealed, her smile bright and eager. Having been born on a particularly dark and stormy All Hallow's Eve, she possessed an affinity for all creatures and effects tied to the holiday. Her interest, however, was not viewed as normal by all. For a long time, Scarlett had had difficulty persuading the folks of Cat's home country that her child was neither changeling nor devil. "Can we please go visit him?"

Jane nodded. "Uh-huh. He sleeps during the day, but if we're real quiet, we can climb close enough to get a good look."

"Climb?" Cat asked, falling into step behind Jane as they started off toward the south side of the property.

"Of course! He lives way up in a cedar tree over the creek."

"Faith and Begorrah!" Cat exclaimed, mimicking her nanny, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "I love to climb. This will be fun!"

Jane turned to her cousin, eyes shining mischievously. In Cat, she'd found a kindred adventurous spirit who truly understood the meaning of the word 'fun.' "Come on, I'll race you there!"

With that, the two girls sped off in the direction of the creek.

* * *

Will sighed and straightened his back, holding the family's worn Book of Devotions in front of him. He silently watched the family gather around the perimeter of the cemetery. The tiny row of graves had been made bright and beautiful by the work everyone had put into them.

He saw Scarlett place herself to his immediate left, while Suellen took her place to his right. He coughed and looked down at the prayer book, flipping through its yellowed pages. As head of the house, it was his responsibility to lead the family in their Decoration Day prayers, even though he struggled to know them well. He shifted his weight onto his foot nervously. The prospect made him uneasy every year. He always dreaded it. Glancing at Suellen, he relaxed a fraction. He was glad she'd be standing by to help him along.

Ludie and her children took their place on the other side of Suellen, while Big Sam and his family lined up beside Scarlett. Pork, Prissy, and Dilcey rounded out the circle's far end, with the children ringed opposite of Will.

Martha, her head already bowed, had placed a hand on Robert's shoulder to keep him from fidgeting. The boy looked around at the congregation, running his shoe over the tops of the grass as he waited for prayers to begin. Susie and Ella stood beside him, for once quiet and solemn. The girls had finally finished talking long enough to participate in the family activities, for now at least. Susie met her father's gaze and lifted an inquiring eyebrow.

Taking her cue, he noisily cleared his throat. "All right," he croaked. "As you all know, we've gathered together on this day to remem..." He frowned in bemusement. "Where's Jane?"

Everyone looked up and began scanning the circle, murmuring to their neighbors. The servants shrugged and scratched their heads. The children shifted about, darting quick glances with a sense of unease. Scarlett huffed impatiently. Suellen rolled her eyes and looked cross.

Suddenly, a shrill, high-pitched scream echoed distantly over the clearing.

"Kitty Cat!" Scarlett cried, her face ashen with terror.

"Oh, Lord, not again," Will murmured as he lurched into a stilting, fast walk behind the rest of the party. Everyone else loomed ahead, dashing as quickly as they could toward the creek.

* * *

Jane hugged the large cedar's trunk and gazed down at the sapling branch as it plummeted into the creek. She grimaced, not daring to move for fear the branches underneath her feet might follow suit. "Cat! Where are you?"

Cautiously, she turned her head up in the direction of her cousin's screams and sobs. To her horror, she found Cat dangling precariously in the air over the water, her fall broken only by a sharp branch that had snagged her dress. Caught on the edge of the limb, she flailed her arms and legs helplessly. "Help! Help! Help!" She shrieked, her high-pitched call as loud and shrill as a banshee's.

"Don't move! I'm coming!" Jane cried, swiftly pulling herself up the branches she'd just descended from. The girls were about midway up the tree, their location a good two dozen feet in the air. The screech owl's nest perched higher still. After climbing close enough to take a good look at him, the pair had just begun making their way back down when one of the smaller branches had given out under Cat's weight. In one heart-stopping moment, their playful outing had taken a sudden dark turn.

As Jane approached, she saw her cousin cease struggling and quiet a little, though her terrified sobs were enough to shake the branch. Jane seated herself on the sturdier branch underneath Cat and contemplated the problem. "Okay. Stay calm. You ain't gonna go nowhere. Don't worry, I'll figure out how to get you down."

The cedar's arm groaned and sagged downward, sending Cat into a new fit of hysterics. "Hurry! Hurry! Cat's going to fall!"

"Naw, it's big enough. It'll hold..." Jane's voice trailed off as her gaze fell on the creaking limb. Three-quarters from its end, the wood snapped and cracked as it slowly splintered in two under Cat's weight. "Oh, no."

At that moment, Scarlett appeared at the base of the tree. She gazed up at the girls and screamed, her hands at her mouth.

"Mommy!" Cat sobbed, reaching down in Scarlett's direction. "Mommy, help!"

Scarlett turned and nearly collided into Big Sam. She grabbed one strap of his suspenders and pointed back in the direction from which he came. "Run and grab the ladder!"

"But...Miss Scarlett, ma'am..." Big Sam wheezed, panting heavily. "De ladder done all de way up at de house."

"I don't care! Go get it and get it quick!" She shrieked, shoving him back through the trees. She watched his large, burly form retreat before turning her head back toward her daughter. "Darling, Mommy's sent for help! Don't be scared!"

The branch jerked downward another fraction. "Mommy, it's breaking!" Cat wailed, unable to even see through her tears.

"Good Lord!" Suellen cried, coming to a halt beside Scarlett. "Jane? Jane!" Her voice escalated frantically as she scanned the area for her daughter. "Jane!"

"I'm here, Mama!" Jane tentatively inched out onto the branch beneath Cat. She paused and waved down to the women below.

"Jane, get down from there right now!" Suellen screamed, stomping her foot.

"I can't! Cat's in trouble!" Jane called in reply.

"Stop this! Get down! Ohhh..." She turned toward her sister, fraught with tears. "Why did your stupid brat have to get stuck in the tree?"

Scarlett drew herself up indignantly. "You're one to talk! She wouldn't even be up there if she hadn't run off with that wild beast of yours!"

Suellen crossed her arms and planted herself firmly in front of Scarlett. "She wouldn't be half so wild if she didn't take after her terrible aunty!"

"Don't try to blame this on me! _You're _the one who didn't raise her right!"

"At least I didn't raise my daughter to hang off of branches!"

"Ha! And you think _I _did?"

"You admit it!"

"I do not!"

"You did, too!"

Will, the last to approach the gathering, silently took stock of the situation and shook his head. Here were Cat and Jane, perched on the precipice of disaster while the rest of the family stood in a ring around their furiously bickering mothers. He sighed reluctantly as he moved to separate the sisters. And they'd been getting along so well, too!

Scarlett and Suellen seethed and screeched at each other as Will tried to push them apart. Suellen turned to her husband and pointed at Scarlett accusingly. "Will! She called Jane a mangy ape and me a cow!"

"That's no more than what you are for calling my daughter a sewer rat!" Scarlett cried, lunging against Will's grasp.

"Girls," he murmured firmly, holding them both at bay.

"I'd rather be a cow than a dirty whore!" Suellen shrieked.

"You ill-breeding harpy!"

"Girls! Calm down!"

The entire family fell still in shock. Even Cat went silent. All eyes turned incredulously toward Will. For the first time since anyone could remember, he had raised his voice. The tremendous, booming tenor of his clarion call had filled the entire clearing. The children and staff trembled with fright and slowly backed away from Will. Scarlett and Suellen stood frozen in his grip, their faces ghastly pale.

"You two are no better'n babies," Will growled flatly, gently releasing his hold. His pale blue eyes, stormy and bright with fury, glowered at them both disapprovingly.

Scarlett, recovering first, smoothed her skirts and tossed her head. "Humph. I wasn't the one who started it."

Suellen drew in a sharp gasp. "You-"

"Susan Elinor Benteen..." Will shot her a dark, threatening look.

She snapped her mouth shut and timidly slunk away.

"Has no one done anything to help the girls?" Will pointed up at Jane and Cat.

"I sent Big Sam after the ladder as soon as I got here," Scarlett murmured, looking down at her hands abashedly.

Will gazed up at his niece and grimly shook his head. "That branch won't hold." He turned to Ella and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Run and get the picnic tablecloth. Take Susie with you. Hurry."

Ella silently nodded. She turned and prodded Susie into a run back through the trees.

The branch groaned and gave another lurch, waving Cat precariously over the creek bed. The girl screamed and covered her eyes.

Jane had no time to think. She quickly straddled the branch she sat on, hooking her legs together beneath it. "Cat, look at me!" She cried. Her cousin tentatively opened her eyes. "I'm gonna reach out for you. Grab my hands!"

Cat nodded and stretched her arms down. Jane cautiously crept forward, seeking the girl's palms. Not far enough. Slowly, she shifted a little more. Her fingers desperately grasped the air. Jane closed her eyes and extended her arms over her head as far as she could, finally brushing Cat's fingertips. Her body now leaned very far to the right of her branch. Jane opened her eyes, making the mistake of looking down. There was nothing between her and the creek bed. Her eyes widened in horror as she felt her bottom slide forward off of the branch.

Screaming, she grasped Cat's hands and tugged. The breaking branch emitted a final snap before falling down past the girls. Jane's legs tightened their locked hold on her limb. Cat shrieked and held onto Jane for dear life.

The party below cried in horror and stood back as the weak branch crashed into the creek. Its impact sent up a small spray onto the bank. The clearing fell eerily silent as the splintered branch floated away.

Everyone averted their eyes from the tree. Scarlett and Suellen loudly began sobbing. Will stood with his shoulders stooped forward, staring at the ground. Robert quietly slipped his hand out of Dilcey's and crept toward the cedar trunk.

Martha glimpsed him out of the corner of her eye and gasped. "Robert, no!" She reached toward him just as he slipped around to the side facing the creek. Emitting a small cry, she buried her face in her hands. "I can't look!"

"Hey!"

Everyone turned to see Robert solemnly pointing up the tree. Scarlett moved closer, following his gaze. "Great balls of fire!"

Jane hung upside down from the branch, stoically grasping Cat's hands with all of her might. Her indigo skirts had fallen up, exposing her undergarments to the world. Her inverted curls, all standing on end, merely added to her comical appearance. Cat dangled underneath Jane, her feet treading air. Her eyes remained locked on her cousin's, refusing to look down. The twig that had snatched at her dress still stuck out from the folds of her skirts.

Suellen cautiously gazed up at the pair, breaking into a relieved smile. "Oh, Jane! Jane...Keep hanging on!"

"Don't worry, Mama. I can do this all day." She smiled proudly down at Cat, tightening her hold on the girl's hands.

"Kitty Cat, are you all right?" Scarlett called anxiously.

"Yes, Mommy. I'm not scared anymore. I can't see the ground," Cat replied without turning her head.

Scarlett finally relaxed somewhat, breathing a long sigh. "You'll be down soon, darling!" She felt Will standing beside her and turned to him worriedly. "You think Jane can hold onto her long enough?"

"I know she can. She's a tough little girl," Will murmured softly.

Scarlett broke into a delighted smile. "Oh, Will, she's just wonderful. She broke my Kitty Cat's fall!"

Will coughed and stepped back so that Suellen stood nearest her sister. She lifted her head high, shooting Scarlett a snide look. "And your Kitty Cat would be gone forever now if it hadn't been for my mangy little ape!" She fairly glowed at the deflated look on her sister's face, for once intensely proud of her daughter's monkey-like qualities.

At that moment, Ella and Susie returned with the tablecloth, unfolding it as they ran. Will picked up one of the corners and enlisted Pork to take the fourth, wading out into the creek so they were standing directly underneath Cat's dangling feet.

"Raise your end higher, girls. Don't pull it so tight. Let out some slack so it's got room to give." Will nodded when everything looked to be in place, then craned his neck up at the acrobatic duo. "Okay, Jane. We've got a net set up here to catch Cousin Cat. On the count of three, I want you to release her hands and let her drop. One..."

"You ready?" Jane murmured, squeezing the girl's palms.

Cat silently nodded her head.

"Two...three."

With a small squeak, Cat dropped down into the center of the blanket's folds, tugging the corners toward the ground with the force of her fall.

"Kitty Cat!" Scarlett cried, splashing through the creek toward her daughter. With incredible brevity, she swooped down upon Cat and snatched her up, hugging her close.

"Mommy!" Cat sobbed, throwing her arms around her mother.

Will craned his head up toward his own daughter. "All right, Jane. It's your turn now."

"No thanks, Daddy." Jane stretched her arms down and swayed back and forth a couple of times before swinging up with enough force to grab the limb she hung from. In a lightning-quick display of nimbleness and dexterity, she hauled herself back upright and shimmied toward the trunk. "I'll climb down instead."

"If you say so, darlin'." Will folded his corner of the tablecloth, a proud grin on his face. When Jane met his gaze, he shot her a wink.

Jane laughed and returned it, folding her arms as she surveyed her surroundings. Will, Ella, Susie and Pork were slowly trudging out of the water, Scarlett and Cat in tow. Big Sam had staggered back into the clearing with the ladder on his arm, only to discover that it was no longer needed. Martha and Bess stood together at the clearing's edge, excitedly discussing what they had just witnessed. Robert still stood at the base of the tree, staring incredulously up at his sister. Suellen stood behind him, the same look of wonder on her face. "_I don't believe it," _she mouthed silently.

Jane sat up proudly and tossed her head. _She _could believe it. After all, she was Miss Jane.

END


End file.
